IT'S A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY - RWBY AU
by alantao1
Summary: The end of the Great War in Europe came to a close, and with it came peace. Except for the 40 odd thousand British Tommies, who found themselves waking up on a strange foreign land where the moon was shattered, and monsters lurk around every corner. Watch them affect the history of Remnant.
1. PROLOGUE

**DISCLAIMER**

I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS FROM RWBY OR THE RWBY UNIVERSE

ALL RWBY CHARACTERS AND THE RWBY UNIVERSE BELONGS TO ROOSTER TEETH

DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW AND GIVE TIPS

PROLOGUE

The guns stopped firing.

At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the guns of both side of the Western front fell silent.

The silence was eerie and yet, so beautiful, nobody dared to be the first to break the silence. Never before has the phrase "the silence is deafening" been more apt.

If one was to take a look out to No-Man's land, one would see the beautiful sight of fields of red poppies growing out of the muddy pockmarked French countryside.

A collective mental sigh of relief went through the many minds for surviving the meat grinder that was the Great War, yet was accompanied by a sadness for those who did not make it to see the end.

It was finally ov-

A great bright light which outshone the sun in the sky suddenly appeared all across the Western Front and became visible all over Europe. Sounds of startled cries and orders to recieve enemy attack broke the silence of the Western Front.

The light disappeared just as sudden as it appeared, leaving many to wonder what just happened.

Runners on both sides carried messages back and fro to senior officers and command centres demanding explanations to what just happened and with orders to not to break the ceasefire.

A few men on both sides were disciplined for opening fire when the bright light appeared for risking breaking the peace, although miraculously no one was killed or injured during the short period of chaos.

It took hours later amid the chaos and confusion before anyone noticed that there were soldiers mysteriously missing from along the British sides of the Western front.

Ammunitions, weapons, fuel and food rations from British supply stores were later reported missing. The missing supplies were however later claimed by military officials to be the fault of clerical errors and were not that uncommon at all.

British military Top Brass hushed up the anomalies, uncharacteristically dismissed concerns over the missing soldiers by simply adding them to the list of the dead and sent letters to their next of kin of their passing.

Many years later, many people are still arguing about the Great Light Event. Scientists believed it to be a rare phenomenon called St Elmo's fire on a massive unprecedented scale.

Religious institutions all over the world claimed the Light was a sign of God sending his approval for mankind ending the War to End All Wars.

Whatever the reason, the Event would continue to linger in public consciousness for years to come.

Men and women who last saw the missing persons were all interviewed in secret and they all told the same story. In all cases the soldiers were there one second and gone the next, apparently all happening at the same time as the Great Light event, leading to some uncomfortable conclusions made by the British Top Brass. Any documents written during the investigation were afterwards promptly locked away in some corner of some dusty government archives or shredded to pieces.

Those that were interviewed were afterwards convinced that it was in their best interest for their "continued well-being" to stay quiet on the matter when they were released back home, and any letter written back home about the missing soldiers were already picked up and destroyed.

To this day the case remains unsolved and hidden from public eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

If this is death, it really isn't that bad, Lieutenant Price decided.

A Lieutenant Thomas Price was floating in a timeless void of darkness and silence, both comforting in their own way, questioning his current situation.

He was never particularly religious, considering he only went to church because everyone else did, and the things he did and saw during the war? He was never going to be a devout Christian after that.

Is this death? Or am I dreaming?

How did I even die? Is this the end?

This can't possibly mean the end for me, right? So much to live for, and so much left to see.

Dark angry thoughts raged in his mind against the damned Hun, the blasted politicians who got Britain in the mess in the first place and, most of all himself.

Who dies after winning the war?!

Seconds, minutes and possibly hours later of tears and anguish in this timeless limbo he started to calm down at last.

Bittersweet resignation to his fate of never seeing home again took over the Lieutenant. He did make it after all to the end.

And if this was death, it wasn't so bad, he decided, after all it could have been worse, it could have been hell.

No sooner he finished his thought, his whole world jerked, and he was plunged into a world of pain and noise.

"Sir, wake up!"

That voice sounds awfully familiar.

"Wake up!"

That voice also sounds urgent, and it was getting so peaceful as we-

"The Hun is here, sir!"

Wait...what?! Damn all the Hun to hell, even in the afterlife they still cause trouble for him!

With a herculean effort, he groaned and opened his eyes to the sight of a vaguely familiar face, screwed up in worry as it hovered above his face.

Private Harry Cooper nervously knelt over his superior officer, waiting for him to wake up.

Everything had gone to hell after that bright light.

He awoke to the sounds of breaking waves, finding himself lying down next to his rifle on a large sandy beach, looking up to the sight of a forget-me-not blue sky with the sun blazing as if it was a warm British summer afternoon.

Warm sandy beaches, that was strange, wasn't he supposed to be in the middle of a muddy french countryside, in the middle of November no less?

With great effort, he pushed himself up and saw the beautiful clear watered sea, tropical trees lining the seaside, it would not look out of place in a Robinson Crusoe novel if it were not for the many soldiers, weapons and equipment lying unconscious on the beach for miles on end.

Many wore different variations of the British army uniform. Khaki tunic, 1905 webbing and pants and puttees marked them as British aligned soldiers.

Although all these details were overshadowed by the fact that half of the people here had some form of animal appendages sticking out of their heads, reminding him terribly of the stories of travelers incurring the wrath of fairies.

Deciding to ignore what clearly seemed to be hallucinations caused by that homemade illicit "whiskey" he drank with his mates for a lark before the last hour of fighting till Armistice, he picked up his rifle and with trudging exhausted feet, he walked around to see if there were any faces from his platoon around.

After, what seemed like an age, he found the familiar face of his platoon leader, and by this time many men were starting to wake up groggily eyed and mysteriously exhausted.

After shouting out to the Lieutenant several times without any response, unthinking and out of desperation, he slapped his superior officer in the face.

THAT got a response out of the formerly comatose Lieutenant. Callously ignoring the sleepy mumbles of fairness and peace, he shouted out thrice more at him to wake up, until finally Lieutenant Price was back among the living.

The superior officer groaned as he held his part of the face where he got slapped.

"Copper?"

Harry sighed, he couldn't expect him to remember his name out of fifty other faces. He was, after all, just a lowly private.

"It's Cooper, sir, Harry Cooper, I'm in your platoon, sir"

"Right, right, Cooper...didn't you drink that bottle of moonshine when I specifically ordered you not to?"

"Err..."

"...and weren't that man who I gave to the Provost Sergeant for sloppiness in kit inspection three times in a row?"

Oh god. Well, at least he remembers him.

"And did you just slap a superior officer?"

"...no. I mean, no sir!"

"And there is no Hun around is there?"

"...no sir."

"...Remind me to punish you later with latrine duty Private, now help me up for God's sakes."

"*sigh*...yes, sir."

Even when transported to a strange foreign land in most mysterious cirmcumstances, some people never change.

"Private...where the bloody hell are we?...why does that man have rabbit ears Private?"

Sod, that wasn't a hallucination.

The days that followed that fateful day were of chaos and confusion.

On the first day, many were confused and scared when they woke up, as where ever this place is with its tropical trees and warm climate in November was clearly far from Europe.

A lack senior leadership caused havoc amongst the army, until most senior officer that could be found was quickly found, promoted to General and given overall command.

The next set of problems came with the animal appendaged soldiers that woke up with them on the beach.

All of them swore they were all grievously injured, before waking up whole and unscathed after the Light brought them there, animal features notwithstanding.

Most had no trouble believing it.

It was after all, a godly light that moved armies of men from the Western Front to a tropical paradise. Who knew what the light could do.

The greatest problem of all came afterwards, when the next night fell and the moon shone brightly and clearly in the sky.

Chaos returned, and emotions ran high, for the moon that was shining innocently in the night sky was in pieces.

Paul Miller idly thought about life as he lay on his bed looking at the alien nightsky above, recognizing none of the constellations above.

The Event had many of the officers arrange emergency meetings, due to lack of Senior High Command present, the most senior officer available being a Lieutenant Colonel Jack MacCraw.

For whatever the reason, he was glad to have a semblance of law and order restored.

He pondered how he came to be here on this tropical paradise, as he last remembered lying in a foxhole with a bullet to the gut and half his face torn off by shrapnel. Then the Light came, and he awoke to find himself whole, hale and back with his friends again, much to everyone's shock. Though it was diconcerting to find foxes ears on top of his head and unblemished skin from where there should be scars, it would be more disconcerting when he found out the ears functioned perfectly as well.

He wondered what his family would think of him now, fox eared instead of scarred face and lame. His little sister would definitely approve, he thought fondly.

The thought of his family brought a pang to his heart as he glared at broken moon above. What would they tell his family back home? His Da and Ma would be sad, sure, but at least they still had another son in the navy to cope with, his little sister would be devastated though as he would be the only one to play with her.

Funny, how loyalty to the King and the country meant so little to him now, stuck in an alien land, when he would give it all up just to see his family and his home in the countryside again.

Where ever this place was, it clearly is no where near Francr or Europe or bloody Timbuktu. No place on Earth has the privilege of ever having a shattered moon above at night.

And no man before has the privilege of having foxes ears granted by a magical lights. He wasn't the only one with an animal appendages. At least half of the people here had some form of animal features.

He whistled a song that got stuck in his head from a long time ago, which seemed to fit the situation perfectly here, to himself at least.

 _It's a long way, to Tipperary,_  
 _It's a long way to go,_  
 _It's a long way, to Tipperary,_  
 _To the sweetest girl I know,_  
 _Goodbye, Piccadilly,_  
 _Farewell, Leicester Square!_  
 _It's a long long way to Tipperary,_  
 _But my heart's right there!_

The calmness of the night was interrupted by the sounds of rifles and machine guns firing from the freshly dug trenches and fortifications and howlings of wolves.


	3. Chapter 2

"To battlestations! Fix bayonets! Eyes forward! Prepare to receive enemy attack! You know the drill lads!"

Paul fumbled his fingers around his sword bayonet as he tried to attach it to his rifle as quickly as possible before levelling it to his shoulders, aiming it into the dark night.

The night had begun so peacefully as well.

It turned out that while the place might look like a Polynesian paradise, it was also filled to the brim with glowing red eyed monsters with a particular taste for Englishmen.

When night time patrols failed to return to report to the soldiers on sentry duty, paranoia and dread filled the men.

When the wolves started howling into the night, it added further to their suspicions.

When packs of the largest wolves the guards had ever seen came into view, they opened fire at them hoping to scare them off.

Rather, instead of being intimidated by loud noises and dying comrades, the wolves simply charged en masse.

Heavy machine guns and rifle fire destroyed the first wave. But then it seemed when one wolf dies, two more takes its place. With no other choice, the guards sounded the general alarm.

Every British Tommy with a rifle is to take his place on the fortifications and the trenches to fend off the large black mass of hungry wolves.

Which brings the story back to Paul.

"Damn it Sergeant! How many wolves can there bloody be in this forest?!"

"You keep firing Private Miller, keep firing, and don't you waste a shot. Make every shot count!" Boomed the impressively mustachioed Sergeant Bourne.

"And mind your language!" He added absent mindedly before he shattered the skull of a particularly large and sneaky wolf with a powerful buttstroke.

Grumbling and rolling his eyes at the eternally unruffled Sergeant, Paul cycled through another round.

Aim.

Fire.

Hit.

Cycle.

Aim.

Fire.

Hit.

These wolves, big though they may be, seemed to go down in one shot to the upper torso or head. But they are fast, so much so that a few will slip through the veil of bullets and reach the fortifications, and those claws glinting menacingly in the moonlight are really not for show as a few unfortunate souls found out.

Cycle.

Aim.

Wait, bollocks, THRUST! TWIST! PULL!

Phew, what a time for them sword bayonets to become useful again.

Paul refocused on the task at hand, reloading and firing, again and again.

This cycle continued on until the first rays of dawn broke over the battlefield, illuminating the last of the dead wolf carcasses, ominously fading slowly into the air.


	4. Chapter 3

The unfortunate colonel, now promoted to general at the behest of those snot nosed whelps of officers, worked through the terrible knot in his temple.

Terrible though the pain may be, he knew better than to go to the "Good Doctor". He shuddered at the thought, unlike those 50 odd unfortunate souls injured from last nights fracas with the local wildlife.

Really, they are about to learn they should feel nothing but envy for the rest of the uninjured army and the 24 fatalities, as they don't have to go through that chamber of horrors.

He was really getting too old for this. Magical world transporting godly Lights? Animal appendages? Dangerous tropical paradise reminding him terribly of the his times as a young lieutenant in the Malay posting? With those sinful exotic women, and excellent food, and gambling dens. Ahh the good times.

Except there are no good times here, just as there are no exotic wenches, cuisine or gambling establishments. Just him and 40,000 other whiney Tommy Atkins, no redeeming features at all.

An explosive sigh escaped through his mouth at the thought of having to balance the resources checkbook for the entire army, finish building the fortifications, organising another search party for the missing night patrol team, though judging by the temperament of those wolves last night they at best barely lasted two minutes, send MORE men out to search for any signs of civilization and other strategic materials and supplies.

Although considering they mysteriously found 40 Mk 4 tanks, 4 of those dirty Boche tanks, 30 tiny Frenchie tanks, aircraft, 100 horses, heavy artillery pieces and shells all in a large jungle clearing 100 yards from their fortifications, they are probably not going wanting for supplies in a long time.

Although, seriously, why anyone wanted this thankless desk job back home is beyond him. Hours of 'General this' and 'General that' slowly driving him closer to the brink of madness than the Western Front ever did.

Those search parties he sent out for civilization better come back with good news.

At this rate, he will probably even miss that mutton headed fool Meltchett, and his pet Darling too.

Lieutenant Price had two choices in terms of direction for his search part as he prepared his platoon early in the morning. He could go further inland into the dense jungles where hungry wolves lay, or he could go west along the coastline.

Well obviously he used his common sense, made the sensible decision, went westwards along the coastline and on to the glory of establishing first contact with the local aliens, like Livingstone in the Dark Continent before him.

But just because one made a sensible decision doesn't mean one will be rewarded for it.

Oh no.

That would simply be too easy, and thus would be an insult to great British explorers who went through great hardships such as Scott of Antarctica and Captain Cook.

As Lieutenant Price would later find out to his dismay as his party encountered a terrifying beast.

It had fur similar to those wolves from last night, great tusks coming out of its mighty jaws with savage long claws to complement it, a savage-like ivory mask covering its face and it stood upright like a man

There was only one thought that went through the lieutenants mind as he gazed at the terrifying obstacle to personal glory

Man-Bear-Pig.

He's actually real.

Oh how his elder brother would frighten him with stories of the Savage Man-Bear-Pig and the unfortunate forest travelers.

Oh God he's actually real!

The Beast took a step forwards, revelling in the stench of fear from the search party, growling as it slowly stepped forwards the search party.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, OPEN FIRE OPEN FIRE!"

Every member of the search party broke their reverie and followed through his command. Everyone from the Lewis gunner to the designated sniper emptied the magazine into the foul beast.

The beast, caught by surprise by the hail of .303 rounds, fell backwards onto its back.

After everyone emptied their magazines into the large body, everyone stopped to stare the now dead beast.

"Cor blimey, reckon dat fing is dead Sarge?"

With a mighty roar the beast came back from the dead, looking for revenge on the puny humans

*BANG! BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

Lieutenant Price jumped forwards and emptied the entire revolver into the eyes of the monster, bullets piercing the skull and finally ending Man-Bear-Pig.

He dropped to his knees emotionally exhausted, as he saw his personal childhold nightmare break apart and fade away in the air, leaving no evidence behind of its existence.

"Umm sir"

"What now, Cooper, can't you see I'm busy resting here?"

"Sir, behind the trees sir..."

Price giving out a heavy sigh and turned to see what the devil the private was harking on about.

And then he paused.

Beyond the foliage was the most welcome sight he saw since coming here.

People.


	5. Chapter 4

As Price and his search party walked forwards to take a closer look, the natives looked on curiously on at the strange man and his equally strange band of khaki clad foreigners who defeated the terrifying Kanaka'bea'pua.

When he was 10 yards away, he could see more distinguishing features of these people, many of them wore what is considered short brightly coloured clothes where back in Britain would be considered indecent, and more importantly, all of them had animal features.

One of the men had the bright idea of unfurling a Union Jack and used his rifle as a flagpole, as to show these natives their nation of allegiance, not that they would know what the Union Jack or Great Britain means of course, but they shall soon learn.

Price raised his arms slowly as a calming gesture to the natives, excitement pumping through his veins for this historic moment surely was his finest hour, and spoke in his most confident voice,

"Hello the-"

"Who are you and what are you humans doing on our lands?"

A commanding male voice coming from q particularly formidable looking gentlemen with tiger ears interrupted the lieutenants pre planned speech.

Confusion ran through the search party at Humans? What on Earth do they mean by that? Aren't they all human as well? They all seemed to look like people who all got afflicted by the damnable Light as well. Perhaps people with animal features are treated like how coloured people in the States are treated. That thought that his fellows and peers who served with him all those years in France are now to be belittled to the level of a coloured man by native aliens somehow did not sit well with him.

There is at least the silver lining that they speak English here.

"What do you mean you humans? Aren't ye human as well?"

Asked a particularly bold private to the leader of the natives.

"Humans? Us? You're willing to treat us faunus as humans? As equals?"

Faunus? That word opens up so many new questions. Does that mean the animal featured men at home are now a different species? Could an animal featured man and a normal woman procreate to produce a fertile offspring? How do they proceed now? They cannot in any certain terms offend these natives for the survival of the men at the Fort.

The Lieutenant remembered his orders to find and make friendly connections with any native civilization on this cursed land.

He straightened his back, squared his shoulder, looked at the tiger eared man straight into his eyes and said

"Perhaps we are willing to treat you as humans, afterall, half of my men are of similar...disposition to you. And I could never consider them my inferior, for their abilities if not their heritage and courage."

The natives themselves took a closer look at the strangers and indeed saw that about half of them were indeed just like them, all of them in impeccable uniform and with equipment and weapons of similar quality to their human colleagues.

The natives seemed shocked to hear thjs reply, which Price internally frowned at. Just how bad were inter-racial relationships here? That seemed to answer his previous question whether or not the anima- faunus, faunus now he mentally corrected himself, are to the local humans what black people are to the Americans back home.

Still he could use this to his advantage. The British Empire always used internal problems and tensions to their advantage. That was how India became part of their empire. Price cheered up at the thought and pushed forwards his momentum

"Regardless of who is human and what is faunus, our expedition force is stranded on this land, so our general sent our party to scout for civilization. Now we found you!"

This didn't seem to calm the natives down. If anything it served to make them more suspicious of these foreigners and the atmosphere became all the more tense between the two groups. British troops readjusted their grip on their rifles and the natives tightened their grip on their more primitive bows.

Huh. These natives must have had a bad experience from visiting humans before.

The tiger man narrowed his eyes and growled out his suspicions

"And what are you going to do now that you 'found us'"

Price only smiled at the prickly man, which only made the natives feel less at ease with the stranger.

"An extended hand of friendship between our two people, and perhaps a mutual defence agreement?"

That seemed to make the tiger man confused, but Price saw how the natives looked more interested in what the khaki men had to say. Excellent.

"A what now?"

"If either of us get attacked by those demonic creatures, the other will promise to send help. How does that sound?"

The leader of the group seemed taken aback by this show of generosity by the human. His face screwed up in concentration as he looked up to the sky as he carefully considered the matter.

After what seemed like an age of pondering over matter, the tiger man finally looks back to the Lieutenant, with a wary look, stepped forwards with his hand stretched out forwards.

Recognizing the gesture for what it is, Lieutenant Thomas Price, also stepped forwards and with a firm grip, shook the tiger mans hand.

"Lieutenant Thomas Price, British Expeditionary Force."

"Bagheera, of Kuo Koana"

The two nodded to one another, and thus, Thomas Price became the first Briton to establish friendly contact on this dangerous strange world.

It has been four months since First Contact, and during that time a lot has been achieved.

The construction of the Fort, or as it is now designated, Fort Wellington, is now completed, and resembled more like a strong fortified town rather than a vagabond camp. 500 men would lose their lives in the construction from Grimm surprise attacks, bad run ins with uncontacted aggressive native tribes, accidents and diseases, a miracle that more had not died.

A vast, robust polygonal design with all the latest amenities, it is effective against enemy bombardment (should they encounter foreign enemy artillery) and land attack whilst providing excellent firing platforms for all gunners.

As the days wore on, the soldiers of the BEF at Fort Wellington became more and more aware that they are never going back home. They all grieved for what they had lost and what they might have had, and the army padre worked overtime to provide all the emotional and spiritual comfort he can, though the native courtesans from Kuo Koana would also prove capable in providing comfort whenever they visited.

The trade between Kuo Koana and Fort Wellington, though initially sparse, grew when a road of sorts was created in the jungle and traders were given military protection from Grimm and local savages, who are rumored to be cannibals. Those cannibal and bandit tribes will soon learn not to mess with the soldiers of the BEF.

The soldiers of the BEF learned more about the natives and the Island they inhabited as well as the world around them, and the natives took their time to learn about the lands and culture the British came from, though if asked, they will probably admit the British are a bit full of themselves.

It was also a time some members of the BEF encountered the mechashifting weapons of this world.

"Gather around lads, and feast yer butcher pies on this beauty."

Sergeant Bourne, a stoutly built legend of a man around camp, with an impressive cultivated mustache, a hard nose and sharp eyes that can smell and see troublemakers a mile away, marched towards the sound of the platoon fool Private Miller, as he showed off his latest purchase to the gathering of equally young and impressionable lads.

"See this 'ere? Can turn from a gun to a sword in a sword in a second. No more of that bayonnetting drills, just a push of a button and-"

The rifle in Millers hands suddenly shifted from a gun into what looked like a medieval long sword in a second.

The young men gasped and cheered at the impressive display, as they swarmed around Miller about his purchase.

"PRIVATE MILLER!"

Everyone jumped in surprise as they turned around to look at the towering Sergeant glowering down at them, or more specifically, at the mechashifting monstrosity.

"WHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH IS THAT THING YOU'RE HOLDING, PRIVATE?!

"Hello Sergeant! Do you like my weapon Sergeant, it's called Bella Rouge!" Miller replied as if all was right was right in the world.

The look on the Sergeants face could have scared off the wolf demons in their hordes, and it was obvious to the lads that the Sergeant does not care for...Bella Rouge. No doubt named for that foxy courtesan that was popular around the Fort.

Miller taking the Sergeants glowering silence as approval continued onwards.

"Here watch this Sergeant! Oops" Miller stumbled around the handle of the blade as it shifted, dropping it onto the ground below, here the Sergeant grinned viciously as he knew what was going to happen next.

"Wait, let me do that again!...oh damn it"

You see, the reason why the likes of Sergeant Bourne and the BEF military top brass hated the mechashifting weapons was because despite its engineering ingenuity, its many thousands of tiny intricate parts requires long hours of cleaning and servicing as it attracts mud and dirt in its parts like honey to a bee. And being outdoors in the most inhospitable unforgiving terrain all the time is part of the nature of the BEF, reliability as well as accuracy is king.

The Short Magazine Lee Enfield, no1 Mk 3, is there the only choice of rifle for the infantry as far as the BEF is concerned. Want a melee weapon? Stick a sword bayonet on it, it also functions very well as a club.

So when Bella Rouge, bought by Miller for 3 bullied beef tins, 3 canned peaches, 5 packets of cigarettes and perhaps most valuable of all 9 chocolate bars, in all of its glory seized up its internal mechanism from all the sand and short exposure to the elements.

Sergeant Bourne vindication only grew as Millers mishandling of the weapon only exacerbated the problem, until it eventually stuck in the form between a rifle and a sword, useless in all regards.

"You see there lads? There's a reason we give you your weapons. Not some useless fancy nancy toy. Miller, you better have not swapped your rifle for this rubbish, and you better not buy mechashifting weapons again, the same goes for all you! We'll be off to pacify the region soon, so don't you lot have some prepping to do?"

Defeated and utterly humiliated by his purchase, Miller could only say one thing.

"Yes Sergeant"

The Sergeant nodded, and he turned on his heels as he spotted another potential troublemaker about to do something foolish again. As they say, a Sergeant's job is never done.

As the crowd dispersed away from Miller after his embarrassing display with Bella Rouge, Miller took a look at his now useless weapon in disgust, and chucked into the nearest disposal bin.

"I paid nine chocolate rations for that..."


	6. Chapter 5

"The inhabitants of Kuo Koana are mostly of faunus ethnicity, with the 'human' population making up the minority. The reason the faunus and humans came to the Island 'Menagerie' was the same reason Great Britain sent all of its criminals to Australia: to get rid of what society deems undesirable. This group includes small time criminals, faunus and faunus sympathizing individuals.

Faunus on the Continents are second class citizens, despite their many useful inborn talents for hunting Grimm, and it has been suspected that the inter-racial rivalry stems generations back, implemented by the current totalitarian governments in the Contin-"

Knock knock

A man hunched over a journal jumped at the loud sudden noise.

Willie Smythe was not one would call muscular, or physically gifted. Tall, thin and somewhat lanky, what he lacks in physical strength he more than makes up for it with his marksmanship and his keen intellect.

Out of boredom, he was currently writing what would hopefully be his first published book on the culture and inhabitants of Menagerie, though he wishes the island wasn't called that, bit boorish and demeaning in his opinion.

Knock knock!

"Corporal Smythe! The Captain would like to see you at your earliest convenience!"

"Yes, sir, coming, sir!"

Willie gave a heavy sigh as he put down his book. Every time he was deeply committed to finishing his work, something always seems to come up and interrupt his flow.

Well, no need to keep the captain waiting.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

"Do you know what is in my hand, Corporal?"

"...a red crystal, though not like any crystal I've seen sir."

"Well, you're partially right there Corporal, it is a crystal, and it is definitely unlike any crystal you've seen back home. This, however isn't any crystal. It's Fire Crystal, though the locals calls it Fire Dust for some reason."

"Fire Crystal sir?"

"Yes Corporal Fire Crystal, here watch." The captain took a pinch of grinded Crystal from a glass bowl and threw it on the ground.

Bang!

What was that?!

How can that little crystal create that much light and smoke? That has so much potential for future scientific studies and applications!

"You see Corporal, these crystals contain plenty of 'fire' power." The Captain said after he waved away the red smoke away. "Now you must be wondering why I called you here to see some pretty explosions"

"Well, yes sir"

"High Command are especially interested to see what would happen if we mix Fire Crystal and our gunpowder. If we can create a powerful but stable powder, our rifles will be much more powerful. The General's orders are to find such a mixture and report back with a formula and a feasible production method."

Smythe listened as the Captain explained, and hoped this meant what he hoped it meant for him.

"I...see sir...so where do I come in to this?"

"I understand you studied natural sciences...at Cambridge?"

Smythe felt the need to interject,

"Oxford, sir."

"Right, Oxford, well, here are your orders, burn that when you finish reading it." The captain gave a piece of paper to the the Corporal to read.

"Corporal Smythe, I hope I don't have to tell you how imperative it is to keep this under wraps. You'll be given your own laboratory and a pick of any 3 men for your assistance. A lot of hope is hanging off your shoulders Smythe, do you understand?"

"Yes sir"

"Good, any questions? No? Good, dismissed."

Smythe stomped his foot, saluted and marched out of the door.

This is what he needed. Not writing books about Kuo Koana, that job can go to some other man.

This is what he wanted.

A Challenge.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

It was a Sunday when it happened.

Daffyd Jones, of the Welsh Fusiliers, was playing a Rugby match with the lads against the Coldstream Guards on an empty field inside Fort Wellington.

He ran.

He feinted.

He ran.

Daffyd ran through gaps of the Coldstream lines, feeling pretty unstoppable.

He ran past their outstretched grasping hands. He was running straight to the try line, and no one was going to stop him scoring another try.

Until he was blindsided from behind by a large Coldstreamer who was deceptively fast.

When he was brought down to the ground, his only thought was:

This is going to hurt. A lot.

And it did.

His whole world was pain, his eyes scrunched up in pain, and he vaguely recognised the sounds of an all out squad fight, if the sounds of brawling and shouting were of any indication.

When he opened his eyes, his squad mates were still trading punches with the Coldstreamers and he was still hurting all over.

"Please...God have mercy...aaaAAH!"

Light burst out of his skin, his entire body glowing something fierce. Everyone on the pitch stopped to stare at the man, slack jawed and awed.

The light around Daffyd grew and grew in intensity, until it gradually faded away.

Daffyd looked at his body in awe for a moment, but then realised everyone was staring at him.

"Hey lads...I don't feel any pain here no more!"

Daffyd Jones became the first Briton in history to access aura. This naturally caused some ripples throughout the BEF.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

4 months earlier

Bagheera, Protector of Kuo Koana, was in a fix.

He was in a fix ever since those "British" arrived to his people's island.

At first there were rumours of a large army of invading the island, which he dismissed out of hand when he heard it, as if there was to invade for in the first place. But like the good responsible leader he was, he sent scouts to investigate these rumours.

Then reports came in of a massive sudden decrease of the Beowolf population within the area.

Then his scouts reported back seeing a large fortification being built 40 or so miles away.

He had a sneaking suspicion that they had something to do with the large Beowolf cull.

So, with the rumors all but confirmed, he set off with a band of 150 warriors to see what on earth could drive an army to invade a remote island like Menagerie.

When he laid his eyes on a large party of 20 men, all dressed in identical khaki uniform, his first thought were: whatever they are here for, they mean business.

The way they moved and behaved were far too coordinated for some backwards tribal raiding party, eternal bane of Kuo Koana, to achieve.

Their equipments and weapons seemed uniform and well looked after, though he could not for the life of him recognise the company that made these guns or the type of guns they were, so he seriously doubted they were from any army in the Four Kingdoms.

He decided to show himself to these foreigners after their loud and impressive takedown of the Kanaka'bea'puaa, although they were caught by surprise by the Grimm not dying from that hail of bullets even though it clearly wasn't flaking away. It was like they never seen a Grimm before!

When they finally noticed his presence, one of the soldiers unfurled a flag and tied it to his gun to show us their allegiance. Not a flag he recognised and definitely not a flag from any of the Four Kingdoms, it had way too many colours on it and no recognisable symbols common in flags today.

After meeting with these Strangers, he was left pleasantly surprised. The leader offered an alliance against the Grimm or as they called them "Demons" and other local tribesmen.

A strange name for the Grimm, although not entirely inaccurate either.

Speaking of such, they are truly a strange bunch of people, from their liberal views of faunus to their unique accents and mannerisms.

After a while he forgot that he didn't introduce himself, so he stepped forwards with his hands outstretched towards their leader, hoping he would recognize it for what it was. After shaking his hands with the strange human, he decided to head back and told him he would be ready with an answer in three days.

Which leads us back here. Should he or should he not accept the proposal?

He relaxed in his armchair as he seriously considered turning down the proposal for an alliance. Why should he stick his neck out for these Strangers?

A ruckus interrupted his concentration, as he heard shouting from outside his study.

"I must see his grace at once! It's an emergency!"

"His grace is busy right now and is not to be disturbed, come back later, and use the proper channels like everyone else!"

He pinched his nose, for he knew if he didn't intervene they would continue arguing until the cows come home.

"It's alright Pumba, let Simone in, now you were saying about an emergency?"

"Sir! Your grace! Cannibals attacked one of our outer farmsteads sir! No survivors! What are your orders? How do we respond?"

His hand on his armchair tightened in cold fury. Cannibals. Ever since he was born, Kuo Koana was the sole civilized settlement on Menagerie, therefore was beset at all sides by barbarians, especially by the cannibal tribes.

Even though Kuo Koana was a large and populous city in its own right, he never could muster enough men to wipe out the numerous barbarian tribes whilst simultaneously protecting Kuo Koana from enemy attack.

Cannibal and bandit attacks are increasing in frequency each passing year, as they saw how Kuo Koana's manpower diminished leading to women significantly outnumber men. A city of widows and fatherless children.

With that in mind he looked his subordinate in the eye and said

"Find every able bodied men who can wield a weapon, I will no longer hide behind the city walls and wait for another attack. We will muster and train our strength for 4 months. In the meantime, get me a runner, I wish to send a message to the British."

The two subordinates looked at each other before facing their leader again.

"Does this mean you're going to accept their offer for an alliance sir?"

He thought about the people of the farmstead he couldn't save.

Of the countless many others he failed since becoming Protector of Kuo Koana.

No more.

"Yes, yes I will."

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

When General MacCraw received news of an alliance against the demon wolves and savages is accepted by the city of Kuo Koana, he was so pleased that he broke into his private and increasingly limited stash of bubbly.

A military campaign to lead and organize at last!

Of course, sooner or later, he will have to deal with the ever aggressive cannibals and demon wolves, with or without this alliance, but this made things so much easier.

Ever since he came here it was simply an endless stream of requests to "build this " and "build that", and so was forced to adopt defensive strategies instead of offensive against these local primitives and oversized mutts.

Those tanks found mysteriously near their fort are just sitting around waiting to be used in battle instead of more tank training. Some of the planes are used for training up new recruits for the new RAF, or rather recently together with the big AA guns shoot down some of the funny looking birds.

BUT no more!

In four months time, the fort will be complete, and he will be free to go on the offensive with his new allies.

And the fact he will be gone from his office work for possibly months has absolutely nothing to do with his glee.

Besides he was curious to see what mustard gas will do those abominations.


	7. Interlude

Belladonna Estate, Kuo Koana, 2007  
85 years after First Contact

It was a lovely summer afternoon.

Everyone was outside in their summer clothes and enjoying the gentle summery breeze.

Couples relaxed together under the shade of giant trees, children were queuing up outside ice cream vans with money from their parents clutched in their hands, teenagers were sitting in circles together with their friends, listening to music and drinking cheap beers.

Everyone was enjoying themselves.

Everyone except Blake Belladonna that is.

And Blake Belladonna was bored.

She nearly finished all the lessons for the day, and they were all sooooo long!

The princess let out a heavy sigh as she rested her head on her table in the most unlady like manner. The Matron would be most unamused to see her posture like as it is.

She thought about running away from History lesson, which was always the last subject of the day, and somehow always seemed to drag on forever.

She just wanted to go outside and play in the warm gardens instead of being cooped up inside like any other ten year old.

Was it so wrong of her for not wanting to be so grown up all the time?

According to the Matron, it was very wrong, as she had the responsibility of being the Crown Princess, meaning she must keep up perfect appearances before the public.

Stupid little brother, why couldn't he be born before her?

She could sneak away, but the Palace guards, bless them with their bright red coats and silly fuzzy-wuzzy hats, have already sniffed out most of her hiding places. Each time she ran away from her lessons, they were getting faster at finding her despite all her best efforts.

The sound of shoes at her door and the turning of the knob signaled the fact she was too late escape anyway. She quickly straightened up her posture just in time to see the Matron escorting an elderly distinguished gentleman through her door.

"Good afternoon your highness"

She would have rolled her eyes at that but refrained from the last second. Remember to always be polite to everyone, Blake, her father always says.

"Good afternoon, Professor Smythe"

The Matron nodded approvingly before heading out of the door, clearly thinking that her lessons on civility were taking effect on the eternally impetuous princess.

"Have you finished reading last week's chapter on the establishment of the civil government of Kuo Koana, your highness?"

Blake turned to look at face of the ancient Tommy, who was present since the birth of the kingdom. He was as old as dirt, yet still managed to look as though he was in his 70s. Which is still old as dirt as far as Blake was concerned.

"Yes Professor Smythe."

"Excellent, we shall later do a little test to see how much you learnt, now for this week, we shall be talking about the history of the Royal Armed Forces from its beginnings as the British Expeditionary Forces. Did I ever tell you how I was with the original BEF? Oh i was a strapping young-"

Her eyes already glazing over, Blake tuned him out, for she already heard this story at least a hundred times before, and she mentally groaned as she knew it would be at least an hour long bombastic story telling before she was free.

Just wait until she was at Beacon! It can't possibly be any worse than this, right?!

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

Beacon, 2017

"...and there I was class, with my back to the wall, weaponless, auraless and no hope of back up coming against twenty ursas! I knew what I..."

"Excuse me, sir"

"Why yes Miss Belladonna?"

"Are you acquainted with Professor Willie Smith?"

"Why yes!"

Oh no.

"He was my old history professor, and let me tell you a story of one of our shenanigans! You see back when I was a strapping young man-"

Thud

The sound of a certain forehead hitting the table as Professor Port was halfway through his fantastical story from his youth was audible throughout the class.

The hidden princess was mentally cursing her luck for always getting these types of teachers, and she was cursing herself for ever thinking Beacon would be different.

"...and with the power of body distortion and the careful application of mustard sauce, that class is how I, Peter Port, defeated the foul beasts!"

Why me?

Why?


	8. Chapter 7

Reverend Stephen Parker, or simply the Padre as he is known to most men in Fort Wellington, was in the middle of a career and spiritual crises.

He lost his faith in God when he joined the army as a Padre, and was forced to see the flowers of British youth go over the top, never to come back the same again, or never coming back at all. He saw the horrors of mustard gas first hand. He saw how young lads, gung ho and green as summer grass, went to the Front Lines, how they would come back dull eyed and knackered.

But ever since the Light transported the BEF to the Island, the only questions going through the minds of many were simply; why? Why did God forsaken the BEF to this godforsaken land?

These questions haunted the Padre as he struggled to give answers to the frightened masses.

God moves in mysterious ways

God has a purpose for us all.

God has chosen us, ONLY US, to complete his special task.

Even though these answers that he pulled out from the back of his arse sounded empty and hollow in his mind, his flock seemed to accept it zealously. Who else but God could move entire armies of men to another land, and why would He have done it without any purpose?

It wasn't until the night the demonic wolves attacked that he had an epiphany. Perhaps this was God's purpose for them? To fight in God's name against the dark armies of the Seducer?

Yes.

It made so much sense!

The mysterious way they just so happened to find an entire years supply of ammunition, rations and fuel near their fort?

The tanks, planes, artillery pieces and other weapons too?

Just a coincidence? I think not.

A few months later, a welsh soldier by the name of Daffyd Jones was blessed by a holy light, and his injuries all but disappeared. This had all but confirmed in the minds of many that the whole thing was orchestrated by the hand of God.

The BEF is clearly the only chance this island, and indeed this world, have to be be saved from the Fallen One and his armies.

The Padre suddenly jumped up in euphoric spiritual joy as he was filled up by the spirit of the Lord.

He will go forth to spread the word of the Lord to his flock.

He must quickly spread the meaning of God's purpose to everyone!

In the months that followed that day, the Parish halls hit record numbers in attendance as flocks of Tommy Atkins gathered to hear what new things the Good Reverend had to say.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

Before the war, Ewan MacArthur never failed to attend Sunday church service. He would always go with his family and friends to the local parish to receive the blessings of the week.

Then the news of the War came to his little village, and soon enough, everyone was praying for the poor people under the occupation of the Hun. The Vicar would preach against the sins committed in Europe by the German and how the BEF has the blessing of God by their side.

After the Battle of Mons, Lord Kitchener asked England's sons to do their duty to King and Country. Posters for recruitment went out to every city, towns and villages in Britain.

Ewan, like many other young men, answered the call of duty and joined with the PALS Battalions in Lord Kitchener's Army. After a few months of Basic training and a large village fanfare, he marched off proudly with his friends to war.

Four years later, he was a different person. No longer a boy that tried to play at war, he became hard and jaded, lest he broke apart. He was the last few survivors from his original PALS Battalion. Years on the Western Front has changed him.

It wasn't all bad on the Western Front though. He met new people and made new friends from all over the corners of Empire. He tried new things, like curry stew, and other things that would cause much scandal out home with the local belle who wanted to show off her gratitude.

But no matter how much he changed or saw though, he still attended Sunday service whenever possible, for a semblance of familiarity if not for his battered faith.

So here he was, in the parish hall of Fort Wellington, waiting for the Padre to start.

The Padre came in, looking much more confident than before, stood behind the podium before gazing at the men below him.

"Good morning, today we shall start with singing "All things Bright and Beautiful", please go to page 9 of the hymn booklet."

He hadn't sung that song in a long time. He hadn't sung anything in a long time for that matter either.

"All things bright and beautiful,  
All creatures great and small,  
All things wise and wonderful,  
The Lord God made them all."

Ewan sang with all the others, living in the moment, far away from demons that plague him, from outside the walls and within.

The song was over too quickly, in his opinion, as he sat down to listen to the Padres lecture of the week.

"Today, I shall be talking about something different.

After the last few months of events, I don't think any one of us here questions the existence of God.

No.

I don't question his existence and neither do any of you, yes?

But what about his purpose for us all? Why did He move his hand to take us from the Western Front to this godforsaken place?

Well, let me tell you what his purpose for us all is-"

Ewan, and every other Tommy listened to what the Padre had to say, and when he left the parishes, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He felt inspired.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

"-and so, with the lack of Jerusalem, Israel and other historical sites important to Christianity, the Church had to evolve to cater to its new parishioners while at its heart retaining most of its original core values: peace among mankind, turning the other cheek and loving thy neighbour, whilst adding new concepts such as solidarity against Grimm.

Over the years, the Anglican Church has developed a huge presence and influence in the island nation where it was first introduced, and a significant number of followers all over the Four Kingdoms. It was among the first institutions which campaigned for equal rights for faunus and against racial discrimination.

Its many charitable programmes on the Continents with unwanted orphans and homeless people, many of which are disproportionately faunus, the Church proved highly popular and influential among faunus minorities all over the world."

\- History of the Church.  
By Rev F. E. Parker and Prof. W. Smythe


	9. Chapter 8

One month after Alliance Pact, Fort Wellington.

Willie Smythe was running as fast as he can to the Captain's office, shoving and shoulder bashing many a man aside as he clutched his papers in euphoric madness.

It had taken him many agonizing energy calculations, countless writing and rewriting of formulas and theories and days of sleepless nights to write the contents of those papers.

But, he had done it.

He finally cracked the perfect ratio of gunpowder and Fire crystals, and designed a feasible manufacturing process.

The Fire Crystals helps the gunpowder burn more cleanly and it gets rid of most of the corrosive element in the current gunpowder formula. The extra power boost certainly helps.

The thing that doesn't make sense to him is how with all the lights and noise, the fire crystal isn't more powerful than gunpowder. It burns quicker yes, but it doesn't propel the bullet any better. But somehow, gunpowder and Fire Crystals together, they managed to put a hole through 4 inches of solid steel. And it only slightly increased kickback of the rife. There were some worries about the strength of the rifle, but it all turned out to be unfounded.

And the Fire Crystal had other uses as well, as he later found out.

One clumsy assistant knocked over a small dish of Fire Dust into an open can of petrol. He would have seriously reprimanded the man, if he hadn't decided to go ahead and see what effect it had on an engine in a Mk 4 tank. The results were amazing, as the tank managed to go a staggering 9 miles an hour. This on the other hand had the bad side effect of the tank crew nearly boiling themselves alive due to high temperatures.

It was maddening to figure out the science of the interaction between Fire Crystals and contemporary chemicals. In the end, to preserve his tattered sanity, he simply wrote the only logical theory in his notebook-"because it's magic".

A marvel of nature indeed.

He finally arrived at the Captain's door, straightened himself up, and knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

The Captain looked up to see the scruffy form of Smythe clutching a set of papers to his chest like a madman, and observed all the signs of sleep deprivation.

"Bloody Hell man! When was the last time you shaved? Or took a shower for that matter? Or even sleep? Must I have you locked up in a cell for the night?"

Smythe looked taken aback by the Captain's words, shocked when he suggested to do something so mundane as sleeping during an assignment as this.

Smythe simply waved the papers around like a flamboyant Italian in a subtle attempt to take attention away from his slightly insane looks, which didn't help in the slightest.

"Sir, I did it! I finally got the new gunpowder/Fire crystal formula!"

That got the Captain's attention away from his looks.

He leaned forward in his chair, and crossed his hands together on the table in a business like manner.

"Tell me more..."

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

One month after Alliance Pact

Thomas Price was cursing his luck, and his leaders for his current situation. It seems that following the success of the "finding the nearest civilization" mission Top Brass suddenly decided that he was capable of bigger and more dangerous missions. He probably shouldn't have slightly exaggerated the dangers that was Man-Bear-Pig in his report, but it was too late for regrets anyway.

Lieutenant Price and his platoon were following a wizened and seemingly feckless drunken guide they picked up from Kuo Koana who claimed to know the entire Island like the back of his hand.

In exchange for weapons, ammunition and training for the upcoming campaign, Kuo Koana helps with construction, manufacturing, food and other services that the BEF should have need of.

Services like guiding the BEF around Menagerie.

So here they are, following an old drunk around a sweaty dangerous jungle near supposed cannibal territory, to confirm a rumour and Top Brass' suspicions.

" **Hic** , Datplacey'allislookinferisjus'beyon'da'illdere. **Hic**!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I believe he's saying our destination is just beyond this hill, sir

Lieutenant Price turned to look at his subordinate, surprise clearly etched onto his face.

"How the devil do understand that man, Cooper?"

"I'm from the West Country, sir."

"Oh" he eloquently replied. How was one supposed to reply to that? Pat him on the back in pity?

The entire party continued on in silence, eventually reaching the aforementioned hill. They slung their rifles and machine guns securely over their shoulders and climbed over the tricky incline, using roots to pull themselves up to the top.

After half an hour of toil, they finally all made it to the top.

From their vantage point, they could see a vast treeless rocky field beyond this hill. Their destination.

It was a recently abandoned dust mine, an attempt by Kuo Koana to find a viable vein of dust to supply the BEF's large dust demands. After weeks of searching and mining, all they found were some coal and a thick smelly substance. All worthless as far as anyone on Remnant was concerned.

Or so they thought.

When Kuo Koana miners reported to the BEF what they found, they expected anger and disappointment for failure to supply more dust. What they hadn't expected was intrigue and interest. Top Brass scrambled to find available men for the mission.

After searching around, they decided to send the closest thing they had to an expert escorted by Lieutenant Price's platoon.

The expert in question climbed down the hill and walked into a mine, armed with a trench knife fashioned from a surplus sword bayonet for protection, a cage with a budgie inside and a miner's lamp. Lieutenant Price's platoon plus one drunken guide waited outside of the mine, eyes out for any savages or Grimm to come their way.

After what seemed to be an age the expert came out of the mine, filthy and smelly all over.

"Well? Did you find 'it'? Is there any of 'it' down there?" Demanded Price.

"Oh I am happy to announce that we found 'it' alright." The now filthy man happily smiled "We struck oil gentlemen. Lots and and lots of oil."

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

It had been one month since 17 year old Baloo Salih had been conscripted by the Kuo Koana militia for the upcoming campaign against the barbarians.

His mother didn't want him to go, but it wasn't like he had a choice. It was either joining up or be exiled to the surrounding small islands. So after much tearjerking displays and tearful promises to look after himself, Baloo left his his mother and hut behind to a mysterious place called Fort Wellington.

It was a vast and alien place, and can be easily overlooked due to the design of the yet uncompleted fortress. Local faunus from Kuo Koana can be seen working in construction, peddling their wares or getting to know the aliens. He had also never seen so many humans before in one place, instantly putting him on guard. From the stories he keeps hearing about humans from the Four Kingdoms, they were evil, slaving monsters with a taste for faunus blood. It was like stepping into a whole other world.

That feeling only increased as he saw his first 'aeroplane', roaring overhead as he entered the Fort. It had four wings and it looked nothing like the airships which occasionally dropped off more of society's rejects on a beach near Kuo Koana.

It wasn't all bad, at least they all given proper weapons and equipments, even if it wasn't what he was used to. They were also given training by a bunch of shouty human and faunus men (working together as well, he has finally seen it all!) in their distinctive khakis on how to use the gun, going from safety to shooting with live rounds and field stripping.

It was a definitely better than what the militia had before, which was ancient mismatched weapons, over half of which if one was being generous, can be considered firearms, and the rest were homemade bows and melee weapons. Although he couldn't figure for the life of him what the 'gas mask' was supposed to be for.

Today they are training in close quarters combat, lead by a formidable man by the name of Sergeant Bourne.

Normally in Remnant, one either had a mechashifting weapon that can switch from a gun to a melee weapon, or to save complication, a physical combination between the two. And both are very expensive and very complicated to use. It seems that the British has a cheap and simple solution to the problem: simply add a sharp blade to the end of a rifle and you have yourself a ranged and melee weapon. And it won't malfunction, as Sergeant Bourne pointed out with vicious glee as he looked at a certain soldier, to his most visible embarrassment.

The British obsession with reliability of their weapons is nearly paralleled with their obsession with rifle musketry. Baloo had never witnessed such obsession before in his life.

"Right listen and pay attention here, ladies." Boomed Sergeant Bourne, "it's all very well and dandy to have your rifle and bayonet, but what if you were to lose them in the heat of battle? Run away? NO! I'll let you guys in on a little secret."

Everyone leaned forward to hear what great wisdom the veteran had to offer them, and Baloo's fantasies ran wild in his mind.

Was it some kind of mysterious martial arts he learnt on top of a mountain in a far off land from a wise old man?

Was it some sort of awesome technique that can shatter the hearts of enemies in one move?

Is he going to-

"Shovel."

What.

Shovel?

Baloo looked around in confusion as if to check if others heard the same thing, and indeed many others looked just as confused as he did.

As he expected, the Sergeant saw the looks of confusion of the group, and sighed. He reached behind his back, and yanked out an innocent looking shovel.

"Your shovel here is your best friend out there, on and off the battlefield.

It can be used to make a foxhole under enemy gunfire.

It can help make fortifications.

And most important of all, in the hands of a trained man, it is a fearsome weapon of death and destruction."

The faces before him now changed from confusion to outright scepticism.

Baloo couldn't believe it. A shovel is a weapon of death and destruction? Maybe the Sergeant is getting senile or something.

The Sergeant, as if sensing the scepticism and denial of the power of the shovel from the trainees, decided to perform a demonstration. He picked five men as 'volunteers' and told them to attack all at the same time with their bayonets.

The following 30 seconds of pain and humiliation for the five men instantly converted the rest of the trainees to the Sergeant's way of thinking.

To hammer the point in, the Sergeant told them in a calm manner a horrifying story of what he did to a man named 'Fritz' with a shovel during a 'trench raid'.

One thing is for sure though, Baloo will never look at the shovel the same way again.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _"The BEF's increasing demands for munitions, chemicals and other materials helped kickstart the first industries on the Island. Under the advisement and investment of the BEF, the first munitions and weapons factories opened up in Kuo Koana, designed and supervised by BEF servicemen, and many of the poverty stricken people, especially women, saw an opportunity to better their lives in the factories in exchange for more rations, despite the risks of dangerous chemicals._

 _Weapon smiths also found themselves employed en masse with more orders for guns and knives than they ever had before, although they initially chafed at having to work with more regulations and rules than before, and were displeased about not being allowed go outside the Lee Enfield design and specifications that they were given, though increased ration stamps and some 'donations' did mollify bruised heads._

 _Efforts to mine more dust veins were mostly given up, with the exception of some successful mines, and were redirected to the growing oil and petrochemical industry._

 _The chemical and oil industries would help make the Island more independent from dust energy, and thus will be less at hostage to dust and trade embargos from foreign powers in the upcoming years."_

-Modern Contemporary History  
By Dr. D. Cooper et al


	10. Chapter 9

Two months After Alliance Pact

"So, let me understand this...aura is a physical manifestation of a person's...soul...that can shield, protect and heal a person." the Good Doctor Ellis, a man in his mid fifties, finished with an incredulous look at the faunus before him.

The faunus in question, Uncle Ben, is the oldest man in Kuo Koana, brought in as the Island's foremost aura expert as a favour to explain to Fort's foremost medical expert.

Uncle Ben was amused at the Doctor's skepticism and confusion. Rare was the case to meet an expert in medicine and never heard of aura. Though, considering the Doctor's circumstances, he can be afforded some leniency.

"Yes Doctor, absolutely correct, and since aura is a manifestation of the soul, there is really no harm coming to this fine gentleman here."

Sitting in a stool uncomfortably between the two was Victi- PATIENT Omega, otherwise known as Greg, the BEF's latest person to unlock access to aura.

As the number of cases of men bursting into a short light display increased, especially from men doing dangerous duties, Top Brass decided to stop pretending the unexplainable light displays weren't happening, and sent a message to Kuo Koana for advice.

Just in case the men won't also spontaneously combust.

"Can I go now?"

"No." Answered the two older gentlemen.

"I must experi- CHECK your health for...medical reason."

"And I must begin to teach you how to aura...in fact bring me everyone who had their aura unlocked."

"But that must be over 2,000 men, sir! I mean Mister Ben."

"And I told you, it's not Mister Ben, it's Uncle Ben."

"Alright, if you want to train over 2,000 men on using, I suggest you get permission from your leader and mine first, though I doubt General MacCraw will reject such a boon."

"Thank you Doctor"

"Really no need to thank me, Mister Ben, now get out of my office, I have an experiment to conduct."

"Very well, shan't be taking any more of your time Doctor, Greg."

As soon as the faunus left the room, Greg gulped as he felt a shiver down his spine as he looked at the Good Doctor, his grandfatherly looks now overshadowed by a mad gleam his eyes as soon as Uncle Ben went away.

"Ha ha, you were havin' a laff about experimentin' on me right? Doctor Ellis?"

The Doctor ignored him, choosing instead to slowly put on two large medical rubber gloves.

"Hold him."

Two large burly orderlies appeared from the shadows behind Greg, and lifted him from the stool, each grabbing an arm.

"Doctor?!" If Greg wasn't worried before, he was definitely worried now.

The Doctor suddenly grinned evilly, a big change from his kind grandfatherly smile he had a minute ago.

"It's time for your medical...examination."

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

Kuo Koana

"And you were still wearing a dress during a battle?"

"Yup, dress, hat and all. I tell you what, that day I didn't know who was more embarrassed, the Fritz who saw me first or me for wearing it! Then a wind blew up, and I tell you what, that day wasn't a good day to send me undies to wash." Paul Miller smiled and winked as his lady companion giggled at his story.

Paul Miller was in Kuo Koana for his long awaited leave combat leave. After labour pressure was lifted by workers from Kuo Koana in Fort Wellington, with all of the important defensive components completed, the General decided to start allowing troops combat leave to Kuo Koana, with an agreed small amount of pocket money from His Grace to spend.

So here he was now in a tea shop, chatting up a lovely bunny faunus lady who's brother was in the militia, and coincidentally ran the tea shop he was visiting right now.

It was a quiet Thursday, and he decided to stockpile his near depleted stock of tea bags and coffee, and when the lady saw his uniform, she asked if he was one of the people from Fort Wellington. The conversation snowballed from there.

As Violet the bunny lady stopped giggling she simply continued smiling and said "Well, Mr Miller, that must have been quite a sight for this Mr Fritz. Quite memorable too."

Paul's smile went even wider. If he, God forbid, told this story to his first love interest back in his stuffy village, she would have simply slapped him or fainted from the scandalous 'low brow' humour. As he got older, he noticed how much he appreciated other qualities from the fairer sex other than a pretty face. Humour was one of them.

And Violet Scarletina had looks and humour in spades.

Time to try his luck.

"Miss Scarletina, would you like to see a movie at the new picture house with me this Saturday?"

One beat.

Two beats.

"Oh! I mean..." Violet stuttered and blushed.

Disappointment grew inside of Paul. He should have expected this. He was after all just an alien. Most people wouldn't be comfortable around an alien like him.

"Look it's alrig-"

"Nonono! It's not that! It's just...I need to see my calendar to see if I'm free this Saturday..."

Wait.

Could it be?

"...yes! I mean, yes, I am free this Saturday. Would you like to pick me up at half seven?"

Happiness and giddiness bloomed inside him. Oh bloody yes!

"I'll see you at half seven then. Miss Scarletina." He nodded at her.

"Mr Miller" She smiled as she nodded back.

He walked out of the store, much later than he anticipated, but much happier as well, his foxy ears flattened out in joy.

It would be two hours before he realised he forgot to buy tea and coffee.

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 _  
"The introduction of the moving picture houses by BEF movie enthusiasts marked the beginning of cinema history in Remnant._

 _The first movies introduced back in the early days may seem unimpressive by today's standards, with no sound or colour available at the time, but that didn't stop the Royal Cinema Theatre in Kuo Koana from selling all of its tickets for weeks to curious citizens and excited crowds. People were mesmerized by both the novelties of moving picture on the big screen and the performance of Charlie Chaplin as he plays a tramp living in a big city._

 _Mr Stan Oliver, successful film director and producer, in an interview remembers the first time he saw the moving pictures back in the day._

"It was simply magical. An experience for the groups of friends, for the couples and for the whole family. I remember going as a young boy to see a movie with my mother, who won two tickets in a monthly raffle from the factory she was working at. And then...I distinctly remember laughing alongside the audience throughout the entire movie, and it was the first time I saw my mother laugh since the news of my father dying in the dust mines in Mistral. That Charlie Chaplin fellow was certainly something else. From that day at the moving picture house, seeds of ambition were planted, and I dreamt of becoming a movie maker."  
 _  
Soon, as photography and camera technology were replicated and reproduced in big numbers, so did a number of innovative film making enthusiasts and movies, including Stan Oliver and his popular comedies."  
_  
-The Story of the Film  
By Steven Hitchcock


	11. Chapter 10

_Three months after Alliance Pact_

"May I ask a question Sergeant?"

"Hmm? What is it Corporal?"

Stan Adlam, Lance Corporal, stood nervously before the Sergeant, with a few men standing cautiously behind as support for what he was going to ask. It was a question that had recently haunted many.

"Sergeant, what are we fighting for?"

Sergeant Fred Bourne was not one to be easily caught off guard or be surprised. In fact, his self control over his emotions and his ability to be eternally unruffled was legendary around Fort Wellington. And so to the outside man, he showed not an ounce of emotion, his face the perfect image of the ideal stiff upper lip when Adlam asked his question.

If the outside man could also see the Sergeant's thoughts inside, he would be very confused and frightened to know that the Sergeant is also just as human as anyone else. Nervous thoughts and panic burst out for a second before he stamped it down, the day he feared would come, had come.

"What do you mean, Lance Corporal?"

"What I mean is...y'know back in when we were in France? We all had Britain to fight for. Y'know, King and Country and all that. But here...what do we have here to fight for? What are we all fighting for Sergeant, now that all our homes and family are gone?"

Sergeant Bourne looked Stan in his face. His own thoughts also wondering why he was fighting on for now that the War was over. Time to improvise.

"You have no family Lance Corporal? Every man here under the Union Jack is your family. Every man who fought the Hun in the War together is your family. Aren't they?"

Adlam looked confused, as if he hadn't thought of that before.

"Well, I supp-" the Sergeant interrupted him mid sentence, not allowing a word in edge ways. It was his duty to nip the bud of doubt and confusion among the ranks and inspire the lads as their Sergeant. And if he wants to crush this little uprising of uncertainty among the troops, he must do so quickly, lest everyone is infected.

"No home Lance Corporal? Well, we have Fort Wellington, there's always Kuo Koana, and wherever the BEF stays, isn't that place home? Alongside your brethren? We have a new home now and we must fight for it, and I admit it is a bit rough around the edges, BUT...if we fight for this place and its people, I guarantee you lads that this place will feel like home as much as Ol' Blighty was."

The Lance Corporal and the men behind looked more chastised by the Sergeant's speech, as well as thoughtful about. Adlam didn't look entirely convinced, but for now he was satisfied by the Sergeant's answer.

"Now, is there anything else? No? Good, because if you chaps have time to ask questions, you have time to do some bayonet drills and some more preparation. Dismissed."

Groans erupted from the men.

Why did they have to open their mouths?

Why bayonet drills?

Meanwhile, underneath the impassive face, Sergeant Bourne was uneasy. He had to report this to his Lieutenant. He will know what to do.

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"Now is there anything else, Lieutenant Anderson?"

As Lieutenant Anderson was about to wrap up his report for the day and leave, he remembered the question his Sergeant asked earlier that day. He was sure the men were convinced by the utter claptrap the Sergeant fed them for now, but sooner or later, they are going to want something tangible after they left the army. Time to voice his concerns.

"Yes, sir. Begging your pardon sir, but the men are getting uneasy about the upcoming fight. I mean...what are we fighting here for sir? If some of them are going to die in a fight with the natives just because Kuo Koana can't defend themselves, at least they want to know why."

The Captain looked pensive and thoughtful about the question. It certainly was a valid question since the BEF's situation has changed since they left their world behind. Well, it is time to improvise and put those drama lessons his mother always insisted he take when he was young to use.

"It's like this Lieutenant..."

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"Sir, if you don't mind me asking this question, but what are we fighting for?"

That question has spread throughout the ranks just as Sergeant Bourne had feared it would. The person who was asking this instance was a recently promoted Lieutenant Colonel Powell, a respected man throughout the BEF. It was only due to the social structure and respect for each other as fellow Britons that the BEF hadn't fallen apart and deserted en masse. After all, the firing squad for deserters were still in force and out there were where monsters and savages dwelled.

General MacCraw had anticipated this day would come, for he had asked himself a similar question ever since those whelps had decided to make him Overall Commander of the BEF. If he wanted the BEF to stay together and fight to the end, he had to offer the common soldiers a goal worth fighting for.

"Well, it's like this Lieutenant Colonel Powell..."

He was invited by the Protector of Kuo Koana to his house for dinner. This was his chance to make a new offer to the Protector of Kuo Koana, and give his men something to look forward to after their war was done. After he gave some inspirational nonsense that he probably borrowed from Shakespeare and the man left semi satisfied, he quickly wrote a list of concessions and demands on a scrap piece of paper.

After a quick look over his list, he was satisfied and confident that Bagheera would not deny anything on the list, as the man would have more to gain if he accepted it.

Time to put his dinner jacket on.

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 _  
Later that night_

"Your Grace, it's an honour to be here, and allow me to gift you a present." The General bowed as he gave a German made C96 pistol complete with wooden holster he sto-err, confiscated, from a surrendering German officer. It was one of his prized possessions but sometimes sacrifices are needed to be made for the greater good. He hoped that he didn't give away that pistol for nothing by the end of the evening.

"General MacCraw, the honour is mine, and thank you for your kind gift. Have I introduced you to my wife yet?"

The General turned to look at the beautiful woman hanging off the arm of the large man's arm. Despite their names reminding him so much of his world's India, their pale complexion could not be further away from an Indian. This place is certainly confusing, but he decided to take it all in stride. What is a name and a person's skin colour to soul less monsters and shattered moons these days? He has certainly changed a lot since waking up on the beach, so much so, back in Old Blighty, he was sure the old crowd would label him as some liberal radical for cosying up to foreigners instead of conquering.

"How do you do, ma'am?" He asked as he gave a kiss to the back of her hand. Pavarti blushed, quite unused to such formality and politeness shown to her by humans. Bagheera looked curiously at this strange action, before reminding himself that these strange folk truly were from another world.

"Quite well, and yourself General?"

"Absolutely spiffing marvelous, ma'am, allow me to give you a gift as well, ma'am." He reached for his pockets and took out an ornately designed pocket watch made for the fairer sex, confiscated from the same German officer he took the pistol from, no doubt was originally intended as a gift for his wife.

MacCraw internally cheered when Pavarti gasped as she opened the protective fob, revealing a face of intricate gears, numbers and jewels.

Apparently, watches were not very common and thus were quite expensive in this world, and all the quality watches come from this one place in some far off kingdom called Vale, Bacon or something of the like. It was quite strange how the smithies can make transforming weapons, but not watches. He hoped his hosts would be appreciative of these generous gestures, as all of the gifts so far came from his private loot collection.

"And finally, here is our child and heir, Victoria."

Victoria, a name that he finally approves of in this land full of Indian names, is a beautiful young woman who bears a great resemblance to a young Queen Victoria* he saw in a portrait long ago, except for the lion tail swaying behind her.

"My lady, I heard that you like to read, so here is a gift from my world that I hope that you will enjoy." He pulled a book he got from one of his friends that insisted he should read (he never read a single page from the book) out of his red mess jacket, and gave it to the young lady.

She graciously accepted the gift and turned the book to see the words "the Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle". She would later be kept up all night, as she read the delightful tales of adventure and intrigue, only be convinced to go to sleep after her father threatened to confiscate the book for himself.

"So General, how goes the preparation on your side? By the way, I must thank you for the generous donation of weapons and for the training you gave to my militia." Asked Bagheera as he finished examining his shiny new pistol.

"Everything is going according to schedule, your Grace, and no need to thank me, we are after all allies, and we British always show courtesy to their hosts and allies."

"Just so, General. Now shall we go for dinner?"

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After the exotic but rationed dinner, as it seems that Bagheera decided to eat the same amount as everyone else in Kuo Koana, the ladies excused themselves from the dinner table with their gifts, leaving the two gentlemen behind. Well, it's now or never, the General thought to himself.

"Your Grace, I was wondering whether or not to you'll agree to some alterations to our agreement."

"What exactly do you mean by 'alterations' General? I hope you're not going to back out of this Alliance Pact are you?" Bagheera's voice was soft, but there was an element of danger in his tone, a subtle warning to the General to be mindful of the next few words.

Instead of answering, the General took a piece of paper and handed it to the Protector of Kuo Koana.

Bagheera looked at the paper in surprise after he managed to decode the spidery handwriting. The contents were shocking, to say the least, as they had the audacity to demand concessions, more than he was already giving to the British. Anger slowly bubbled beneath the surface as he finished reading the list.

"You want me to grant you more concessions? Need I remind you who is producing all your munitions and weapons? Need I remind you who exactly has the control over the oil fields? And most important of all, who allowed your troops to learn aura?" Bagheera was furious now, as he gave so much and now the British were demanding more from him.

"Look, I'm not looking for an answer now, but please look over the list. I believe we can mutually benefit from this agreement! If you make your mind up before the end of the month, please feel free to give me a telegram." And with that the General excused himself and went to his room for the night.

After a while of teeth grinding, Bagheera was looking at the list again, with a much cooler head. It simply listed the number of things the British wanted from him as compensation for the alliance. It listed some sensible things such as increased trade with Fort Wellington, to the more dangerous such as a Magna Carta; a declaration of equality for all races and a right to a trial by peers, to the outrageous proposal of making him King of the Island. There are some things he just can't do.

Technically, the Island Menagerie is under the control of Mistral. It started off as a penal colony for petty crooks and criminals, before the Emperor of Mistral decided that it should also be used as a dumping ground for those that can not be used as slaves for the dust mines and farms, such as the elderly, the diseased, the general bankrupted poor, women and children. All disproportionately faunus. Eventually, following Mistral's example, three other kingdoms also sent their wretched faunus and political opponents to the Island after seeing levels of apathy from Mistral concerning the Island, which was due to lack of important resources to mine.

Every few years though, Mistral would send troops to collect all that they can as a form of "taxes" and "security surveillance". This regular occurrence always comes with panic and despair of the dwellers of Kuo Koana. Which in turn attracts Grimm hordes and invasions which the soldiers do nothing but sit idly aside as they watch the defenders fighting back against the horde.

The position of Protector of Kuo Koana was established by the Emperor, not to protect citizens from Grimm or savages, but as an insult to their lack of abilities to protect themselves from either.

He grew into his role though, and threw the insult back by repelling Grimm and savages invasions, one after another.

Even though the situation was not ideal, he knew better than to invite the wrath of Mistral to his doors, despite the new powerful weapons at his disposal.

He tightened his grip on the piece of paper as he remembered the last time his people rebelled against the Emperor. He was only a young man during the Fifth Rape of Kuo Koana. Blood and fire ran through the streets until the soldiers quenched their bloodthirst. The entire family of the Protector and the rebel leader were executed. Kuo Koana never seemed to recover from that incident, despite new arrivals coming in afterwards.

The thought of Pavarti and Victoria being put to the sword was too much to bear thinking about.

No.

These concessions would go beyond his station as Protector of Kuo Koana. If Mistral got so much as a whiff of these concessions and new social laws, they would simply declare him a rebel and execute him without a thought.

As he prepared to turn over for the night, urgent knocking sounded from the door as soon as he was halfway through tearing the paper apart.

He sighed as he placed the tattered paper in his pocket.

"Come in!"

Simone, one of his most trusted aide and advisor, ran inside with a nervous look on his face.

"Your Grace, news from the scouts on the Savages. And it is not good."

Any news regarding those Tribes were almost always bad news, as far as he was concerned.

"Tell me." He commanded.

"The tribes are all banding together numbering in their tens and thousands behind some fortifications, 50 miles North East. They must have figured out we are preparing to hunt them down."

That wasn't so bad. With all of the new men, weapons and superior skills from the BEF, they could end this Tribal Insurgency in one stroke. Though thousands of warriors who are almost always willing to fight to the end normally means high casualty rates for all parties. He was not looking forward to meeting that.

"It gets worse. The scouts reported new steel swords, musket guns and bows being in the hands of the tribes."

What.

How the hell have they managed to get steel weapons let alone muskets? They barely figured out farming for Remnant's sake!

"One of the scouts looked up close at one of the weapons. It has the Imperial crest your Grace." It all made sense now, Simone thought, that they had been seeing Mistrali ships coming to the Island without stopping at Kuo Koana a few months ago.

The Emperor was supplying savages weapons from his arsenal, most likely out of a lark to see Kuo Koana struggle.

And Simone could see that his leader came to the same conclusion as he did, getting angrier by the second judging by the increasingly red hue to his face. Simone prepared for the oncoming storm that was his Protector's rage.

Resentment against the Four Kingdoms, especially Mistral, have been stewing inside of Bagheera for his entire life, finally boiled over as he heard the final piece of the report.

The straw that broke the camel's back.

For years he begged Mistral for more Dust supplies and weapons, only to be denied out of hand with the same old excuses of weapons shortages and the such, which he knew was impossible. He had to build the infrastructure for weapons manufacturing from scratch. It was only due to the British presence and engineers that for once, there was plenty of weapons for everyone.

Now, the Emperor is now supplying weapons to those barbarians simply to insult him some more. Hot, seething rage consumed his entire body.

He picked up the tattered paper from his pocket, and read the section where it said in exchange for granting all the concessions the General and the Anglican Church are willing to recognise him as King of the Island, considering it again even though his mind was telling him it was a foolish decision.

If he accepted the concessions, it will make Mistralis froth at the mouth in outrage.

If he was crowned King of the Island, the Emperor would throw a violent tantrum as he goes mad with rage and order his and his family's immediate execution, for the Emperor cannot abide a sign of weakness or rebels. And with him as king, it will show both. Wouldn't that make for a perfect revenge?

He will never allow the Mistralis touch his wife and daughter though. Perhaps if the British are willing they might accept to hide them for him if he asked politely.

Ah well, if he was going to humiliate the Emperor and Mistral, he might as well be King while doing it, no matter how foolish it may seem.

Simone waited for the Protector to respond verbally, watching him as he picked up a tatty paper, changed his look of implacable outrage to a look of consideration. His face still red as he furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought.

Bagheera finally looked up, and began to smile an unpleasant smile which ran shivers down Simone's spine.

"Wake up the General, and tell him that his King calls for his presence in the dining room..."

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"-instead of giving that animal the supplies he was begging me for, I gave it all to the savages in the wild lands!"

Wild racous laughter echoed throughout the courtroom as courtiers complimented the Emperor over his latest decision to put those animals on Menagerie in their place.

His minister, Lord Tsao, was the only one uncomfortable at the decision to needlessly punish the Colony of Menagerie. It wasn't that he liked the animals, he really didn't, but he felt that those supplies could have gone else where. And the fact that inviting another rebellion on Menagerie when a conflict with Vale loomed closer to the horizon seemed a bit foolish.

He leaned sideways to whisper in the laughing Emperor's ear.

"Was it wise to arm the barbarian tribes, your Imperial Highness?"

The Emperor only gave him a sideways glance and shrugged.

"My dear minister, what's the worst that can happen?"


	12. Chapter 11

_4 months after Alliance Pact  
Pacification Campaign_

Paul remembered the last time he saw Violet. He remembered all the stolen kisses and moments of passion behind closed doors in Kuo Koana. He keeps all the letters she sent to him in his left shirt pocket as a constant companion and reminder of all the good things he left behind on the campaign.

He tried to keep his affair hidden from his mates, but bored soldiers are worse than gossiping housewives, so naturally by the end of the first week of the relationship everyone in his platoon knows about it. The jeers and cheers from his peers as well as all the jokes about foxes and rabbits put him in good cheer, though right now in the dangerous jungle, that good mood had long since passed.

He shifted the position of the Lewis Gun in his sweaty hands, feeling the weight of the heavy weapon as the army slogged through the foliage, grumbling all the while about his luck of being picked as the new Lewis gunner. Gary, the last lewis gunner, copped it as he fell through one of the devious tribal booby traps, which naturally means Paul has the responsibility of suppressive and supporting fire for his team.

Wait.

Where have the sounds of birds gone?

Was that a rustling noise and movement?

His eyes widened as he came to sudden conclusion.

"AMBUSH!"

The entire platoon fell to the prone position on the ground as he emptied the entire magazine into a suspicious bush where the rustling sound came from.

 **Bang Bang Bang! Click. Click. Click**

His body was shaky as he lowered the Lewis gun, his mates rushing ahead with fixed bayonets to check for a body.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Oi, we got a stiff over here! Bugger had a bow on him as well!"

He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and was about to yell when he realised he was looking into the face of Sergeant Bourne, his eyes softened as he spoke a word of congratulations to Paul.

The rest of the platoon came back with a body clutching a bow and arrow, Paul realised he was looking at his would be killer. But as he stared into the glassy eyes of a child forced into war, the look of young surprise and terror was forever more etched in his mind, and he knew he would never be able to tell Violet about this.

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 _Later that day_

The Allied forces have finished building the temporary fortifications for the night. It was strategically placed in a middle of a large clearing with trenches, barbed wire and sandbags surrounding the encampment, giving a sense of security to the soldiers who were exposed to ambushes earlier that day.

Night has fallen, and no one made a peak. The jungle seemed more alive at night than it was during the day, the cacophony of wildlife and nature were almost deafening, and the darkness of the new moon night gave cover to a large horde of warriors, sneaking towards the camp.

Suddenly a bright light illuminated the entire jungle, turning night into day, and revealing a surprised looking army of tribesmen. The leader seemed to realise the implication of the light and tried to rally the warriors against the enemy, but it was too late.

An endless stream of death from the trenches and behind sandbag walls cut through plants and foliage and into the masses of warriors. Tracers from machine guns flashed through the jungle night, and the screams of men dying were accompanied by the sounds of guns firing. The enemy tried to charge en masse in a desperate attempt to reach the trenches, but a wall of lead stalled even the most powerful of aura warriors.

Kaino wasn't supposed to be here, he was supposed to be back in his hut with his family and their farm. But a blight has darkened his people's land, and people were desperate, so when a Mistrali offered to give them all the weapons they wanted at a heavily discounted price everyone leapt at the chance. He didn't truly hate Kuo Koana, even though they were one of the oldest enemies of the Free Tribes and were living on their land, but that Man had generously given them quality weapons they would need to fight Kuo Koana and her new ally. From that moment on, the Free Tribes banded together and their rivalry with Kuo Koana returned with a vengeance, for the sake of their people's survival. Soon Kuo Koana would be destroyed and the land would be given back to the free tribes.

It was supposed to be an easy victory that night. According to the Plan, harassing the enemy with ambushes, lowering morale and finishing them off in the night supposed to result in their victory.

But then, a small sun appeared above the enemy camp, sounds of gunfire suddenly poured out from all sides through a ridiculous pace. Guns weren't supposed to shoot that fast! Before he knew it the strongest warriors who led the vanguard were cut down within seconds. His people tried to take cover behind foliage and trees but those bullets cut through plants and flesh like knife through butter.

His leader despite the deaths of his best warriors rallied the army, and everyone, including himself, charged through the gunfire, running as fast as they could in the direction of Hell. Warriors to the left of him, warriors to the right of him and warriors in front of him, felled and died, yet still he charged to the sounds of death.

A feeling that someone slapped his leg really hard followed by the ground suddenly coming up to meet his face happened within a heartbeat. His ears began to ring as sounds of explosions threw up earth and bodies all around him.

Strange, he thought, wasn't he supposed to be running? He tried to get up but his leg refused to support him, eventually turning on his back.

It was truly a beautiful night, he thought looking at the tapestry of stars and galaxies in the night sky, just how did it go so wrong? I think I'm going to take a rest here, Kaino thought, before the darkness consumed his thoughts into unconsciousness.

General MacCraw and Bagheera were sitting in a tent with their officers looking at a map of the region. So far, after a liberal use of machine gun fire and the BEF plying the Mad Minute rifle fire on the charging masses of warriors, the battlefield littered with bodies of tribesmen and the enemy had retreated to their fortifications with their tails tucked between their legs. General MacCraw was reminded of an old saying during the British conquest of Africa, and decided to alter it slightly to fit the situation; "Whatever we got, the Vickers gun, they have not!". He pulled his mind from thoughts of Dark Continent as one of the colonels outlined his plan to the men in the tent.

"So we are in agreement then? Series of gas attack followed by the advancement of infantry into enemy fortifications."

"...hmmm..."

As if he read his mind the colonel continued on, "I know sir, but if we want to win a quick victory against the enemy, then...certain methods must be used, no matter how distasteful it seems."

The General didn't want to use gas attack on the savages for several reasons. Firstly, no one deserves death by gas, not even savages, as it truly was a horrible way to die. Secondly, they have a limited supply of gas with no means of manufacturing more gas yet, and some of it was already wasted on a pack of beowolves as an experiment. The sight of those damned mutts looking unaffected and confused in the gas cloud infuriated and scared the soldiers to no end, so they expressed their dissatisfaction with a hail of gunfire against the beowolf pack. And thirdly, it seems...dishonorable...to resort to such evil tactics against a people with no defense against it.

The General looked at the map again, filled with little arrows and lines and dots. He thought about the later stages of the War, with all the great technological advancements resulting in great advancements in strategy. So there was the one tactic that could work very well in clearing out traps and enemy positions, without resorting to evil methods, even though it would require immense precision.

"No. Scrap that idea Colonel, for I have a better plan. Your highness?"

Bagheera, dressed in a British style officer's uniform as part of his attempt to endear himself to his future subjects under the advisement of MacCraw, looked more than a bit lost when the General and his subordinates started using military jargon and unfamiliar names of tactics and strategies.

"General, please feel free to explain, if you will."

MacCraw motioned his hands at the map.

"Well, your Highness, it's like this..."

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 _A few weeks later_

The air was filled with the buzzing of aircraft flying through the air. The people down below looked to the skies filled Sopwith Camels and repainted Fokker triplanes in wonder as the BEF conquered the airspace in Remnant. The occasional ratatat spat from the Vickers guns of some skirmishers and the booms of the Pom Pom guns on the ground shot at the odd unfortunate flock of Nevermores who strayed too close to the battlefield.

The great masses of aircraft are flying in the direction of the Tribal fortifications. Their orders were clear; cause as much mayhem and destruction.

The ominous buzzing sounds of doom would soon be heard by some concerned tribesmen, but by then it would be too late to do anything about it. The swarm on the sky, originally thought to be a pack of strange wild birds, turned out to be death from above. These bird shaped machines were not at all like the large airship which gave them their weapons, these were faster and more agile, making it hard to hit them.

Sounds of aircraft shooting and bombing the targets on the ground and the screaming of tribesmen trying to outrun the sights of the aircraft's gun filled the air. Some tried to shoot the planes down with their muskets and cannons, with very little effect. Aura enhanced warriors found their semblances and weapons impotent against the strafing aircraft.

After the longest hour of bombardment and gunfire from the aircraft, they turned and flew away. One of the Tribesmen peeked out of his foxhole to tentatively ask if it was over.

The answer to that question came in the form of the air rent with deafening thunder.

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The artillery shells exploded all over the fortifications. The thunderous explosions mercilessly decimated inexperienced warriors, reducing half of the survivors to shell shocked gibbering shadows of themselves and the rest in a dazed state. It was especially more painful for those with faunus traits, with both pairs of ears rupturing to the sounds of explosions.

After the longest time, like the aerial attack it suddenly stopped, leaving the area eerily silent save for the sobbing of shell shocked warriors. At that point the coherent survivors naively hoped that the enemy was finished.

Then, the wailing of bagpipes filled the air. The survivors who had energy left to peer over the fortifications were the first to be introduced to the sight of charging Scotsmen, tartan kilts flapping and bayonets glinting in the morning sun.

And at the head of the charge was a familiar tiger faunus, sword in hand, leading the men on to the broken walls of the Free Tribes' fortifications.

The few cannons that survived the bombardment and the defiant surviving warriors fired onto the charging force. Many fell, but most survived to storm and capture the walls.

By nightfall, the last of the Free Tribes had surrendered to invading soldiers without much resistance and the Free Tribes' regions have finally been pacified.

The beginning of Kuo Koana's supremacy over the Island had begun.


	13. Chapter 12

_The next day  
_  
It was late at night, the cicadas chirped their tunes throughout the jungle and the sounds of celebrations by the victorious army blasted through the trees.

The party fever was infectious, spreading throughout the Allied camps and amongst the ranks. Even the officers were seen celebrating with the lower ranks, an action which at home would be cause for raised eyebrows and tuts of disapproval.

Everyone was celebrating.

Everyone except MaCraw it seemed.

General MacCraw looked at the statistics on the battle reports. He sighed as he thought about all the men he has lost since he arrived to this Island. The only thing he could do was to look to the future with the survivors, and make it a better world than the one he left behind.

He looked at the casualties on the report again.

BEF CASUALTIES  
TOTAL CASUALTIES: 1,315  
FATALITIES: 217  
TOTAL INJURED: 1,014  
TOTAL DISCHARGED AS INVALIDS: 463  
TOTAL DIED FROM RECEIVING INJURIES: 26

Though not a lot, and certainly if he managed to achieve this victory at home, it would have been called a great victory. But here, there were no replacements for the fallen and the invalids. Each soldier was a highly trained professional with years of experience, so each loss would be keenly felt later on.

A lot of these casualties came from ambushes and cunning booby traps. A lot of lessons have been learnt from this campaign, and he will endeavour to apply them in the future.

If there is one thought of comfort to him, it is that these savages were finally subdued, which meant they now have the privilege of being ruled over by the soon to exist Joint British and Kuo Koana Government in hopes that they too can take their place in the world as civilized people.

For now, under the advisement of the BEF, the Allies will be taking hostages, mostly children, to ensure good future behavior. Those children will grow up with a foster family or orphange in Kuo Koana and will be given an education in soon to open British run schools. Their parents will most likely end up as coolies, building a series of defensive pillboxes and tunnels all over the region for when this world's version of the Orientals finally decides to invade the Island.

Mistral, the main threat to his plans and ambitions for retirement, though Mantle sounds just as dangerous to him as well seeing how they are the firearms experts in this world. Bloody effin' Chinamen, it seemed like this world was also in danger from the Yellow Peril. A lot of people in Kuo Koana were from Mistral, though you wouldn't know it at first glance, and a lot of them have resentment for that yellow Emperor. Hmm...Bagheera should definitely exploit the Chinamen resentment amongst the people, mob effects and all that rot.

MacCraw reached inside his pocket and pulled out one of his precious victory cigars. He had asked around if tobacco existed in this world. Turns out the only place which grows tobacco was in this world's equivalent of Africa and South America, and it was utterly lawless. He internally sneered at the thought, how was he not surprised to hear that no matter which world he is in, there's always some form of lawless, degenerate continent similar to Africa.

He lit up the cigar in his mouth, sucking in the smoke into his mouth, and simply enjoying the flavour of tobacco in this dark wretched world.

Phase one is nearly completed.

Time to plot for phase two.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

Bagheera looked at the celebrating men, everyone from the militia to the BEF soldiers chanting his name as he walked by, the feeling of jubilation filled the air as the campaign was declared over.

The General had a talk with his officers of the idea of renewing their oaths of allegiance from King George to Bagheera, in return they would be appointed ministers in his new government as well as be given other...benefits. Naturally, the officers were amenable to the idea of prestigious offices and benefits, and so thanks again to the social structure of the BEF, the average Tommy were amenable to the idea because their senior officers were also amenable. There were some grumblings about keeping loyalty to King George and Britain, but it was a weak objection, as they know they are far far away from home for that to matter.

He waved and smiled at the cheering crowds, but he couldn't share their happiness. Mistral will hear about his victory over the Tribes, and word will spread of the sudden suspicious effectiveness of the Militia forces. Rumors will spin, and the Emperor will no doubt hear about how the animals down south managed to consolidate their control over the Island with such rapid pace.

He heard of the alliance between Mantle and Mistral formed against the kingdom of Vale, and he knew war was coming. The Emperor will suspect foreign involvement, as there was no way the Militia could have defeated the Tribes all on their own, and will immediately accuse him of abetting and collaborating with foreign powers.

Well, he would technically be correct that there was foreign involvement, just not from the same kingdom. Or even world.

It seemed that conflict with Mistral was always inevitable, no matter the path he took, and he cannot feel anything but worry. The new wonder weapons and soldiers he has at his disposal may even out his odds of winning any battles, but the armies of Mistral are vast, and if they request Mantle for military aid, wonder weapons or not, they could drown the Island with sheer numbers alone unless he somehow expands the army.

As soon as he was in the safety of his tent, he took out his pistol and admired it again. It was superior in every way to anything that Mantle has, and it was his. It helped him conquered the Tribe's fort that fateful morning after he lost his sword during the final clash.

It saved his and a few other Scotsmen's lives that day.

It truly deserves a name other than C96, but after he asked the General for any ideas to give a new name for the pistol MacCraw told him that unless it was an ancient legendary sword, it is embarrassing to actually give names to weapons in Britain.

What a sad culture.

Ah well.

He decided that perhaps the General would like some company. He should really thank that man again for help organizing the campaign, and ask more questions about the world he came from. Especially about that Australia place, really interesting stuff, and it has in his opinion a really great name.

Australia. A nation of Australians.

Hmmm...

He snuck out of the tent and walked towards the General's tent without anyone seeing him, too busy drinking and singing the night away.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

It was the first day of spring, the sun has come out out from behind the clouds, and Tiny Tim was playing kickabout in the streets with all the other orphans and gutter rats, being ever so mindful of the other people walking about.

Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted, with people running down the road shouting to make way. Tiny Tim didn't know what was going on as the suddenly excited crowd parted from the road and onto the pavement.

He quickly hung on to his big sister's arm as they were swept to the side of the crowd alongside the other urchins by a man urging them to stay clear of the roads for the parade.

Parade?

He never saw a parade before!

He begged his sister to let him watch the parade, as he was curious to see what a 'parade' was. It must be good, since all the grown ups were looking excited about it.

Seeing as there were nothing else to do, she relented, and so with eager eyes they stayed at the front of crowd.

They waited minutes, but it felt like hours, and they were about to call it quits on the parade until a huge cheer erupted from the crowds far to the left of them. And that was when he heard the music playing.

There were drums, there were trumpets and there were other instruments his young mind doesn't recognize yet all playing together to make a song he has never heard of, nor heard anything like it before. It was cheerful and bright and exciting and he loved it, never regretting to beg his sister stay for the parade.

Suddenly, the Protector rode by on a large horse, waving to the cheering crowds. He was followed by the group of men in red who were playing the music, and a whole army of men in khakis, all stepping in sync to the sound of music as he looked on in young awe. Though he wonders what kind of flag was that they're waving about.

Some of them he recognized from the orphanage he stayed at, as they would help with the leaky roofs and told funny stories of a place of 'Blighty'. Others he recognized as elder urchins who were conscripted into the Militia.

He waved and cheered at the marching men with the crowd as they continued to put on the impressive show. Large metal monsters and fast flying machines that didn't look anything like the airship which brought him here also made an appearance in the parade, causing much shock and awe.

All too soon, the last of the soldiers marched by, and the crowd dispersed away. He swung his sister's arm as they slowly walked back to the grey orphanage, daydreaming of going off to grand adventures with those men in khaki when he grew up.

Oh, he simply couldn't wait to grow up!

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

The band was playing Colonel Bogey as they marched through the City and into a street full of cheering crowds. Everyone, including the Militia, was dressed in their best uniform, with buttons and shoes all given the ol' spit and polish treatment. It was a colourful display of uniforms, with khaki, traditional red tunics and bear skinned hats and navy blues, all marching along to the cheerful tunes of the marching band.

Paul couldn't help but look around the cheering crowds, his eyes darting back and forth looking for his Bunny Lady as he continued to march in sync with his platoon.

Huh.

Wasn't that the little brat that tried to pick his pockets on his first day here? Little Tom or something? Good thing he brought his sister along to stop his mischiefs.

Paul's platoon marched and marched until they arrived at Bagheera's house, a big splendid house though it kind of paled next to Buckingham. To be fair though, most buildings paled next to Buckingham in his unbiased opinion.

After a few cheers of hurrahs, they were finally, FINALLY, dismissed.

He was tired, and a bit sad he didn't get to see Violet. Well, there's always tomorrow, as they say.

He was about to follow his platoon to the direction of the City's gate when he felt a strong pair of arms engulfing him in a tight hug, a pair of familiarity floppy ears coming into his eyes' view and a wet patch forming on his back.

He smiled and his ears perked up, for he knew exactly who it was.

"Missed you, Violet."

"...missed you too, Paul."

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

A man in black approached the Imperial Court, his face emotionless and cold, and knelt before the Emperor.

"Your Imperial Highness, I bring news from Menagerie. Kuo Koana has defeated the Free Tribes and brought them under their influence. Judging the speed at which they defeated the Tribes, I'm afraid to say that Kuo Koana is not working alone here."

Silence.

The Emperor looked at the man in black with a more concerned expression. His thoughts full of paranoid accusations of treason and betrayal. Vale is becoming more confrontational over the border dispute and other matters, despite the good senses of their King, and the Emperor knew it was only a matter of time before war broke loose.

"Who is working with those animals, Seneschal Lao?"

Lao Yi Tsen, the Seneschal and Master of Whispers, was a cunning man. An ambitious man. He knew exactly what the Emperor was thinking, and decided to...confirm...these suspicions. After all, war was always good to his type of business. And it was certainly a hassle to try figure out the origins of these foreign fighters, only that these were very effective soldiers or mercenaries that Kuo Koana could never afford. No matter though, once war comes he will be elevated to the position as the Emperor's favourite and trusted advisor.

"I'm afraid the details of these foreigners in Menagerie are sketchy, but I have a feeling that Vale is behind the scenes here...we can assume that Protector Bagheera is collaborating with Valean forces, and that this is a ploy from Vale to destabilize our Empire from within."

Lao mentally smirked when the Emperor looked vindicated in his paranoia. One more push should do it. Time to get the reports from those tribesmen in his paybook.

"And I have reports of men in green being seen with the Kuo Koana militia on their campaign, in case you were wondering about evidence, Lord Minister Tsao. Green, just like what Valean soldiers wear, your Imperial Highness." Well technically it was khaki (who would wear such a colour?), but what the Emperor doesn't know, won't hurt him.

Lord Tsao looked as if he swallowed a bitter lemon, as he knew what this would mean for his position if Lao convinced the Emperor of Valean trickery. And looking at his face, he knew the Emperor hardly needed evidence in the first place to believe Lao, as his paranoia of Valeans were well known around court. He really did himself no favours by trying to convince the Emperor that the Valeans could be trusted with peace at every turn.

"HOW DARE THAT MAN! THAT. THAT CHARLATAN! ALWAYS PREACHING ABOUT GIVING PEACE A CHANCE AND ALL THAT RUBBISH! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! DESTABILIZE MY KINGDOM WILL HE?! I'LL SHOW HIM!"

As the Emperor exploded in rage against the Valean King, Lao knew his appointment to the Emperor's right hand was now imminent. Shame it had to take starting a war to get there, but he's sure he could turn that into his advantage. After all, history would not forget the Minister that won a most Glorious War in the name of the Emperor.

In fact, he'll make sure of it.


	14. Chapter 13

Lao, now Minister Lao after Tsao handed his letter of resignation to the Emperor in shame, pondered his next movement. The Emperor wanted war with Vale immediately, but it was far too soon for that. One does not simply declare war on another nation in Remnant without adequate reason, not if he wanted Mantle to continue to be confident of their Alliance, nobody wants an insane hysterical ally after all.

He tapped his fingers on his shiny new mahogany desk, his mind exploring all avenues of possibilities for his next move.

Hmm...

What. To. Do?

...

Perhaps he should accelerate the settlement programme on the East coast of Sanus? Tensions between the two nations were already high over the East Coast settlement, so perhaps increasing the number of people in the settlement programme will exacerbate the situation. If it doesn't, drop a couple of coins here and there, who knows what might happen between the two rival settlements. God forbid should some violence erupt(!)

Yes...

Send a couple of loyal men and their families to the new settlement...and whisper some sweet promises into their ears, and the rest of the pieces will fall into place.

He'll get someone to write up a list of potential families to send to Sanus, but before that, the Menagerie Problem.

He leaned back on his luxurious chair, taking in the sights of his spacious new office. He allowed a sigh of contentment to pass through his lips before he refocused on the problem at hand.

That Island was always a source of issues for Mistral, with its untameable natives, the unhappy population within the Kuo Koana colony and very little profitable Dust resources to mine.

The Emperor wanted to send in the army into Kuo Koana and ensure loyalty (fear) from the citizens, and remind them of the last time they rebelled. He himself have no issues with such move, except with the upcoming war with Vale, he needed all the manpower and resources concentrated on their Western neighbour, not tied up in some godforsaken corner of Remnant.

Besides, khaki/green soldiers or not, Menagerie knows better than to rebel against Mistral with what little manpower that they have. No matter how much they hate Mistral, when the Emperor says jump, they will ask how high.

Oh!

That gave him another idea!

To prove their loyalty to the Emperor, they should be asked to 'donate' half of their able bodied men to serve in the army. The Emperor will like that, as it punished those animals, anything to increase military power the generals will always approve of and the Protector should appreciate that the boot of Mistral's armed forces won't be crushing Kuo Koana to dust...this time.

It was win-win for all.

Now, where has that lazy assistant gone off to? He has some new decrees for the Emperor to sign.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _Kuo Koana, July 1919  
One month after Pacification Campaign_

The sun was out in all of its blazing glory, and the sweaty workforce down below were busy digging.

Kaino was not supposed to be here, he was supposed to be with his fellow warriors, hunting in the Ever Green Valley alongside his ancestors.

But here he was, shovelling dirt out of the ground alongside his fellow captives. They told him he was lucky to be alive when they found him, feverishly insane and leg nearly lost to infection. So he supposed he was supposed to be thankful to be alive now, shovelling dirt and soil on his useless leg.

At least they were feeding them.

 **Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.**

Did he care what the ditches and trenches were for?

 **Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.**

No, he decided, he did not.

 **Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.**

This was his fate.

His people gambled and fought for greater stakes.

They lost, and life was rarely kind to those who lose.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _The Council Room, Kuo Koana_

The room was filled with a mixture of British officers, Kuo Koana natives and a few Tribal leaders who didn't fight or make war against Kuo Koana, all sitting at a large table with Bagheera at the Head, and the General sitting at his right.

The would be King was having a conference on the affairs of the Island. And it had gone off to a rocky start.

"I'm afraid to say that with all the manpower shortages, we shall soon be forced to recruit...women...into the armed forces, sir" Bletherby sat down as he finished.

MacCraw sighed as he listened to his other subordinates roared against the proposition while the Islanders looked confused at the ruckus. He was of the British sentiment about women and their place in society, but he was forced to face the cold hard facts of life.

Even when the BEF and the Militia were recently incorporated into a single military force, manpower was still in terrible short supply. Too many men were shackled down by paperwork, support and logistic duties. The man had a point; if women could fulfill those duties, the Armed forces would greatly increase their combat numbers.

He listened to his officers and the natives bickering back and forth with each other, the volume increasing with rising emotions. Dear Lord, where has their sense of propriety gone? Going off at each other like a pack of Europeans in an international event.

Well, bugger this and bugger that.

"SILENCE!"

...

The whole room fell silent to the uncharacteristic yell from Bagheera and the General.

MacCraw huffed and puffed, fixing each officer with a gimlet eye, as though to dare them to shout again, while Bagheera looked as though he was regretting his decision of creating the Council.

"Good. Now, Bletherby has a very good point here. We are facing a manpower crisis, and too many men are doing non combat related duties when they should be holding rifles.

Gentlemen, while I would never suggest that we send women into Frontline combat, I would not be opposed to them joining the Artillery Corps, the Logistics Corps and the Signalling Corps. We are currently the premier fighting force in the world now, but from what his Grace has told me, even we cannot fend off a joint invasion of Mantle and Mistral if we do not have every man out there on the front lines. Do you understand?"

Grumblings and unhappy mutterings went around the room. What next, giving women voting rights? Reluctantly, the officers gave their support to the proposal, alongside the Islanders.

Bagheera, happy to finally settle the issue, moved on to the next item on the agenda. "Right, next on the agenda, we have the Island's youths. Now the General here told me that some of his officers came up with a brilliant plan to get children away from street gangs. Let's hear this plan now, General."

"Very well, your Grace. As any of you know, there is a large quantity of youths living on the Island without much guidance or discipline. I suggest that we should set up the Scouts Organization on the Island, with experienced soldiers and warriors offering expertise to the younger generation."

"What kind of expertise, General?" Pumba, the boar faunus native asked. He was one of the good sort in MacCraw's opinion. Knows his place well and plays by the book.

"Well, expertise such as rifle musketry, outdoors survival and navigation, Mr Pumba, as well as a whole lot of other activities."

Bagheera looked more intrigued by the idea, as does a lot of other people on the council.

"Hmm...yes...that does sound like a delightful idea. Simone, please work with the General to get the necessary equipment and men to set up the Scouts for Kuo Koana's youth."

"And what of our children, your Grace?" Interjected a Tribal chief.

"Hmm...we may need to have segregated Scout houses to avoid friction between our children. Would this suffice, Chief Kala'meha?"

The chief, though not happy with the idea of segregation, understood the reason for it. Years of hate does not wash away overnight, so he simply nodded his head in approval and consent.

"All in favour, say aye."

Chorus of ayes sounded from the majority of the room. Bagheera looked more beggared by the minute, the General noticed in sympathy, as the meeting continued to drag on.

"While we are on the subject of children, if I may your Grace?" A voice spoke up from the British side of the Table.

"You may, Lieutenant Colonel." Consented a bored sounded Bagheera.

"As you may or may not know about English and Welsh history, the longbows were a key component to military success-"

"Please Lieutenant Colonel, get to the point. No need to drag it out."

"Right you are General, well my point is that children should learn rifle musketry, for the rifle is the longbow of today. I recommend all able bodied citizens from age twelve upwards to learn rifle musketry. And yes, I do include females in the proposal as well, your Grace."

"Interesting proposal from the Lieutenant Colonel."The Tribal chiefs, who have seen the deadly effect of those British rifles on their war mongering neighbour tribes, supported the proposal wholeheartedly. The British side looked uneasy about women learning to shoot guns, most unladylike in their opinion, but then again apart from a few exceptions there were hardly any ladies on the Island. It was the thought of carrying the ancient tradition of marksmanship forward into their new country that struck a chord with the more traditionalists sections of the British officers.

"Right, well, all in favour say aye."

Ayes rang round the room as most of the people supported the proposal. Bagheera internally groaned at the slow pace of the meeting, hoping that the end is near, for the sake of his sanity.

"Alright, next item, the new name for our Island nation to replace 'Menagerie'..."

Or perhaps the meeting wasn't that bad after all. This will prove most interesting.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _Fort Wellington_

Uncle Ben, was looking at a group of meditating young men, and was feeling proud of himself.

After he got permission from the General and his Grace to teach these young men how to access aura, he immediately rounded all the aura users and began his teachings. It was difficult at first, as many of them didn't want anything to do with aura, but after a demonstration with a punch to a rock they all changed their tunes.

The real difficulty lay in teaching them the basics as they all came from different backgrounds. Some of them require little input while others require...more forceful methods. To make it manageable he divided them all into groups.

He sighed serenely as he turned to the mess hall to get some tea. This would turn out to be a bad mistake.

20 minutes later

He returned to see not a field of peace and quiet, but a scene of rowdiness and choas. A bunch of lads gathered around a cocky looking fellow and a large rock. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Heee-Yah!"

 **Crack!**

"Mr Ben, Tompkins broke his hand again!"

He resisted the instinct of all teachers to strangle their troublesome students. This was much, much harder than he thought.

"Take him to sick bay and have him report to Doctor Ellis." That should teach that little brat to attempt higher level techniques with such arrogance.

Tompkins heard the order, and tried to not whimper as he was frogmarched to the sickbay...and to the gentle hands of the Good Doctor Ellis.

Everywhere he turned there was someone trying to do something idiotic, their aura blinding them from common sense.

"NO! STOP! Don't just try to channel aura into your gun!"

To think he actually volunteered to do this.

This was much, much harder than he thought it would be. Much, much harder indeed.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 **Author's note:**

 **What should be Menagerie's next name?**


	15. Chapter 14

_Mistral, 29th of August 1921_

The Twelfth Heavenly Ruler of Mistral, otherwise simply known as the Emperor, was pleased as he read the military preparation report written by Minister Lao.

Promoting Lao might have been his wisest decision yet, as all he ever had to offer besides patience and waiting like that fool Tsao were proactive solutions and measures. Lao, he felt, was the only one besides himself that recognized and understood Vale for what it was; a barbarian nation which threatened the stability of the greatest Empire in the world.

As he read the estimated budget, his mind began to wander around, distracting the Emperor. Minutes ticked by, and yet the Emperor could not focus on the report, his concentration long gone and exhausted.

Deciding to take a break from his office, he got up and out of the room with two guards in tow as he walked in the direction of the Palace Gardens, his mind full of thoughts of history and dark family secrets.

The gentle sounds of waterfalls and water fountains interrupted his thoughts and signalled his arrival at the Palace Gardens. An attempt by the Third Emperor to recreate the Heavenly Gardens of the Celestial King of the Universe, it was the most beautiful garden in Remnant's history and a marvel of horticultural magnificence. Trees bearing all kinds of fruit and flowers of all types grew comfortably in the Garden with the help of hundreds of staff giving each species the attention it needs to survive. It was expensive to build, expensive to maintain and it was worth every single Lien, as far all those who are privileged enough to see the Garden were concerned. It was especially special to him during the rare times where he was free of plotting courtiers and ministers; it was his safe haven from all earthly and Imperial burdens.

The beautiful Garden was the closest place one could get to Heaven on Remnant, yet, peace still eludes the Emperor's mind. He sat on his favourite spot of the Garden, overlooking a small waterfall and a pond full of Golden Koi fish, and he meditated.

He knew what his Father, the Jing Emperor, had done to secure peace and stability for the Empire, the Rape of Kuo Koana being one of his father's burden to bear. A sacrifice for the greater good of the Empire, his father always told him, as the massacre reminded all vassal states their loyalties and their place in the Empire. Yet, faced with near certainty of war, the Emperor felt as one would feel as one stands on the edge of oblivion. After many months of preparation with Lao and the generals it was too late to turn back.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The Emperor sat in his spot in the Garden, basking in the tranquility of Nature, until the Sun began to set over the horizon.

That afternoon in the Garden would be the last peaceful moment he would experience in a long time.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※  
 _  
East Coast of Sanus_

A large angry mob had gathered around the mayor's house, cries for war had increased in frequency each passing week as tensions with the Valean settlement had worsened. A plump man in fine clothing stood on top of a podium outside the building, pleaded with the mob to listen.

"People please! We cannot go to war! By the Emperor's decree, unless they attack, we must honor the agreement with the Valeans!"

The mob jeered and booed at the fat mayor as it was an easy thing for him to say, seeing how he spent all of his time behind high walls, whereas the people had to work within a stones throw away from the Valeans.

"We must honor the Emperor People listen ple-"

He never got to finish his sentence, as a bolt pierced his chest, blood flooding the lungs.

Before he fell he looked up to the face of his assailant, dressed in Valean green, crossbow in hand as he yelled out a patriotic Valean slogan.

There were screaming all around as the howling mob gave chase to the assassin and the civilians ran to the safety of their homes.

But the mayor didn't notice all that. As he fell backwards, the face of his assailant was printed in his mind. Strange, he thought, that face looks familiar.

He tried to talk, but all that came out were wet gurgling sounds and bloody coughs, until the mayor finally stopped and gave into the darkness.

The first battle of the War had begun.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _"-even after years of investigation and research, no one is quite sure which side fired the first shot. The series of riots and violence collectively known as the East Sanus Riots that preceded the first battle had destroyed a lot of evidence and killed a lot of eyewitnesses. The War would ensure that the number of survivors would be sparse and few in between, all giving different accounts on what had transpired on the East Sanus Settlement._

 _Some experts and historians suspects the involvement of agent provocateurs on the payroll of Lao, although any documents or decrees regarding such activities would have been destroyed before the Final Battle, and thus would be very hard to prove today._

 _Whoever fired the first shot, most historians agree that the East Sanus Riots instigated the Great War."_

A Dissertation on the Great War  
By B. Oobleck

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _"By the Proclamation of Mistral, the Kingdom of Vale have attacked the Empire!_

 _The Decree of his Imperial Highness is that one man from every family must serve in the Imperial Army._

 _Repel the Barbarians from the Empire!  
Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!_

 _WÀNSUì! WÀNSUì! WÀNSUì!"_

-Imperial proclamation document, sent to every city, town and village within the Empire.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

 _10th of November, 1921_

Daisuke Genda was not in a pleasant mood. It had been about a month ago since he had set off from a port town with 1,000 troops and 10 cargo turned troop carrier ships to the Menagerie Colony. His orders were to collect as many mangy mutts that could hold a weapon as he could and report back to Mistral. What use were faunus in a fight, he does not know, but who was he to question the wisdom of the Emperor?

So here he was, looking for the sight of land in this thrice damned, slow as his grandmother airship from the Bridge deck. When he asked the captain, some half breed mongrel by the looks of him, when they would arrive at Menagerie, he simply replied;

"When we get there."

The small cabins and living space, the terrible food and countless violent storms had not made the voyage pleasant, nor Genda's countenance improve since receiving his assignment.

It had been almost two months ago since the war with that Gaijin kingdom Vale had started. Nobody was sure who fired off the first shot, though in Genda's unbiased opinion, it was clearly the fault of the Valeans. Everyone knew Vale was jealous of Mistral for their success, if the number of criticisms from their King was to judge by, and now because of the inborn jealousy of the barbarian gweilao, war had been declared.

Before the violence Genda had a few family and friends living on the East Sanus Settlement, but because news and information does not travel well between continents, he had been left clueless to their situation. Days of asking around about their condition before he was packed off to Menagerie had been fruitless. All he knew was that the first battle was bloody and had ended in a stalemate.

Creak! Creaaaaaak! Creeeeaaaak!

Oh no! The turbulent winds are back again! He quickly looked for his trusty bucket, panicking as he forgot where he had left it. A junior officer, some talented man who was of no doubt deserving of promotion, quickly handed Daisuke the Bucket just in the nick of time.

Rancid smell and rancid sounds of solids and liquids hitting the bucket filled the badly ventilated room. It was only thanks to experience that everyone else had kept the ever present lump in their throat at bay.

Had Daisuke mentioned how much he hated air travel? He despised it to his core right to his very soul. And right at that moment, he was sure he hated the half breed captain even more as he just simply laughed at his misfortune.

"Ah Major, I have good and bad news for you. Bad news is that our airship took some damage from the current bad weather, and repairs will take until tomorrow to finish."

"...blaaaarghhhh. Wasssaagudnnewwsa….blaaargh."

"After we finish the repairs tomorrow, we will land at Kuo Koana Bay by midday."

That lifted his spirits a little, before reminding himself that after he collected the enlisted men, he'll have to go through the same journey all over again.

"..urghh...blaaahggh." Daisuke simply responded into his bucket.

Sounds of the Captain giving an amused grunt had immediately put the Captain on Genda's Little List. He will make that half breed regret laughing at him if it was t-

"BLAAAAARGGHHH"

To Genda's dismay, the turbulence carried on well into the night.

Unnoticed by anyone, a small shape high above them in the clouds took a photograph of the small fleet and the damaged airship, before speeding off into the horizon.

※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※—※

"Ten airships sighted by maritime patrols, all flying the Mistrali flag, they are expected to arrive at any moment sir."

This short report stilled MacCraw's hand as he wrote an order for more artillery shells from the munitions factory.

From what Bagheera told him, tax collection wasn't due for another year or two, and ten ships? Average tax collection from Kuo Koana barely filled two ships, let alone ten. He had a suspicion to what this convoy was coming for, and knew the time had come.

When the Mistrali ships land in Kuo Koana Bay, he will make them deliver a message back to the Emperor, a very powerful message indeed

He hastily wrote out orders and had them sent to his subordinates. Time was now of the essence. All leave was now cancelled and all off duty soldiers were to report for duty immediately.

He picked up the telephone up from its receiver and waited for the man on the other line to pick up. It was a special phone, with only one other telephone connected to the other end. Seconds passed by, and MacCraw was beginning to worry that Bagheera the bloody luddite forgot how to use the phone again when the phone on the other end was finally picked up.

"Hello General, what can I do for you?"

"10 Mistrali military airships sighted and inbound at any moment. Operation Oak Wood has now officially started….your Majesty."

MacCraw was greeted with silence on the other end. He really hoped the gruff tiger man hadn't lost his head hearing the news; hysterical men was not a sight he ever wished to see again.

"Yes...yes, of course. Operation Oak Wood, of course. Carry on General, I shall see you soon."

"Your Majesty."

And with that, the telephone conversation ended.


	16. Story Rewrite update

Story is being rewritten. First chapter of rewrite is now up!

s/12560044/1/IT-S-A-LONG-WAY-TO-TIPPERARY-RWBY-AU-REWRITE


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